If Only For A Night
by JustBFree
Summary: In Storybrooke, a secret friendship has formed between the lovely librarian and the town's most notorious dealer. Work in progress. Rating will go up.
1. Beauty & the Bastard

**Author's Note: My first fic since returning home after six months away at basic training and then OCS for the National Guard - I am a newly commissioned officer, and I am also ready to start posting this, my first Once Upon A Time story. It centers on the development of the Rumbelle relationship in Storybrooke - are they meant to be? Are they cursed? Can they find their way to true love? I'll let y'all know when I figure it out. ;P**

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><p>Returning from the stacks, Belle had just settled behind the main circulation desk when she heard that familiar <em>tap<em> in cadence with a set of footsteps. She lifted her head to smile at the man himself just as Mr. Gold stepped in from the street.

Watching his approach, it was strange to think that he could command such dread in the residents of Storybrooke. Mr. Gold was a slight man, only a handful of inches taller than herself, really, and he kept very formal manners and attire. He was also dependent on a cane, but Belle saw it as more of a dashing accessory than proof of his handicap; she knew for herself that the man was stronger than he appeared: he'd recently impressed her by lifting a crate of encyclopedias that had been too heavy for her to move on her own.

No, he was not what anyone would first picture after being told of such an imposing figure in the town, but Belle had come to learn that, as he owned most of the buildings in Storybrooke and so dictated leases, Mr. Gold had gained the reputation of being a cunning dealer. This much Belle could believe; the man was highly intelligent, she was sure he could match wits with the whole of the town and come out the victor.

What she refused to believe were the rumors of his wrath - warnings of a vicious temper and unforgiving nature when faced with those who either couldn't or wouldn't pay their debts to him.

Belle just couldn't see it. Mr. Gold had never been anything less than pleasant with her, and they had even fallen into a routine of secret visits over the past few months. They saw each other several times a week, some visits being more brief than others, and no one knew of her visits to his shop.

She and Mr. Gold had an agreement toward discretion.

Belle hadn't mentioned him to her girlfriends to avoid the childish teasing she knew would come of it. Ruby especially would jump on the thought of something sordid going on between them when nothing could be further from the truth.

Not that Belle didn't catch herself in the odd daydream every now and then...

Mr. Gold smiled lightly as he approached her desk, and as always, he was dressed to the nines. Belle often thought that, if she could trade genders for a day, she would happily do so just for the chance to raid Mr. Gold's wardrobe. Eying the folded handkercheif peeking from his pocket, Belle bit her tongue to keep from telling him she wanted to try on his suit. As pleasant as they might be with one another, Belle doubted he would let her do so.

"Good morning Mr. Gold." She greeted.

The man came to stand before her at the circulation desk, gracing her with a thin smile in return. Others thought his smile to be condescending, while Belle had come to know him well enough to understand that he was simply not wont to big grins.

"Good morning to you, Miss French." He said, his accent warming the words.

She leaned a bit closer over the counter, "What brings you in so early? Another Dali painting to research or is it some fiction you're after? I've had a new mystery set come in that I'm sure you'd love, the whole series is set in your Scotland."

"You've quite the memory. No new paintings as of late, though I have come into possession of something wholly unique - an Egyptian scarab from the reign of Nefertiti."

Belle's eyes widened, "You're joking!"

Gold shook his head, "Never. You are, of course, welcome to come see it any time you like...perhaps later today, if you're-"

His invitation was interrupted by the library doors opening to reveal a gaggle of children headed up by Mary-Margaret Blanchard. He had had few dealings with the teacher, really he only engaged with her when collecting the rent but she had always been pleasant with him and always had her money on time. High points in her favor. Outside of that, they would usually only give a greeting to each other in passing on the street.

"Oh, it's Wednesday. New book day for Mary-Margaret's top readers." Belle confided to him in a quick whisper while directing her smile to Mary-Margaret and waving her forward from the door.

"Ah, I'll leave you to it, then. And I'll leave you with this," Gold set the take-away cup he'd been holding on the counter between them. "There was some mix-up in the kitchens and Miss Lucas gave me an extra coffee." He tilted his head toward the excited children. "From the looks of this group I think you'll need it."

Grateful, Belle took the coffe and put her hand over his, giving his fingers a quick squeeze of thanks on the counter. "You're a lifesaver, Mr. Gold."

It wasn't until after the children left and the library was quiet once again that Belle realized Gold had brought her coffee just the way she preferred it.


	2. Visit

**Author's Note: Here you are, another helping of fluffy Rumbelle sweetness. Next chapter will illustrate how Belle and Mr. Gold became so friendly in the first place. Please read, review and enjoy!**

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><p>It was mid-afternoon the next day before Belle was able to get away from work and seek out her friend. She waited for her lunch hour to roll around before she locked the library and skipped down the street to his shop.<p>

Catching a blur of movement in the window, Gold looked up from the pendants he'd been logging for inventory. He saw her stride in, all smiles in a deep rose dress and nude peep-toe heels. So lovely. Much as he had tried to keep his usual bland expression in place, this woman brought out his rarely-used smile. "Miss French."

"Hello, Mr. Gold."

Gold stilled his pen and set his ledger aside, happy for once to be interrupted from his work. "Twice in as many days - to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Belle strode right up to the counter and set a thermos before him, "You were kind enough to bring over a pick-me-up the other day, so I thought I'd return the favor."

Gold rolled the pen between his fingers. "No, no, I told you earlier, that was just a mix-up with the order..."

As she gingerly took a seat across the counter from him, Belle eyed the man knowingly, and smiled. She wasn't sure why, but the urge to tease him was strong today. Perhaps she just wanted to see him smile again, he did it so rarely. "Of course, a mix-up. No worries, Mr. Gold." She winked at him. "Your secret is safe with me."

"And what secret would that be, Miss French?"

Belle shrugged before taking a sip from her bottle of Ginger Ale, "Just that you're not as bad as everyone thinks you are."

The man smirked a bit at her summation. If she only knew. "Oh, that. You're right," he fixed her with a mocking glare. "I'm worse."

"Sure you are." She dismissed his attempt at intimidation, eagerly revealing her true interest. "So where's that new treasure you got in?"

They had done this dance many times. Gold would mention a new piece he had in the shop as she assisted him in his research at the library, and then she would come to see the piece in person. He hadn't minded her first visit in the least; to his surprise he'd found himself enjoying the time with her, and so began to invite her round to the shop every time he had a new piece to show. It'd become their private routine for the past few months. There wasn't anyone else he could discuss his historied treasures with, and if he was honest with himself, Gold was just as susceptible to the charming woman as any other man. Perhaps he was baiting her a bit, but what was the harm?

"Well, there's the scarab I mentioned and a few lesser pieces from that era." Gold took an experimental sip from the thermos, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. The tea was rich with the natural sweetness of peaches. "This is wonderful, thank you."

Belle smiled, "Oh, I'm glad you like it. It's a new blend, I haven't tried it yet."

"You wanted to test it on me first?" He asked in amusement.

"If you like it, then it's a safe bet I'll like it too."

"You sound so sure."

"We have similar tastes, which brings me to the reason of my visit..." Belle urged him.

Mr. Gold put a hand over his heart, "You wound me, Miss French. Here I thought you wanted my company when the truth is you're only here to see the scarab."

"Oh, please! Of course I'm here to see you, the scarab is just a benefit. But I am on my lunch break, so show me the goods!" Belle demanded with a laugh, her impatience getting the better of her. She loved spending time with Mr. Gold, but right now she truly was pressed for time.

"As my lady wishes." Gold gave a mocking bow and slipped behind the curtain, to the back room of the shop.

"'My lady', I like that!" Belle called after him.

He returned with a preservation box in his free hand. "I'll keep that in mind for later, dearie." He set the box on the counter between them, and turned it to face her, opening it to reveal the jeweled treasure within. "Look, but don't touch. I've only just begun the restoration work, it's very delicate."

Belle's eyes widened at the sight of it. A scarab molded from pure gold, its wings inlaid with a repeating pattern of gemstones, gripping an emerald the size of a small bird egg in its forearms. It was much larger than she had expected it to be, and far more elaborate than the simple beetle she'd pictured in her mind when he'd mentioned the find the day before - but she shouldn't have been surprised, Mr. Gold wouldn't have bothered with the thing if it was just a plain sandstone carving. The man trafficked in rare, beautiful artifacts, and Belle had come to learn and endlessly appreciate that Gold's fascination wasn't solely for things of monetary value, but for things with a remarkable history.

Heeding him, Belle didn't touch it, though her fingers itched to run over the jeweled wings, to feel the texture of the stones. To think, that the scarab had been held by Nefertiti herself! The thought was dizzying.

"This is amazing. You know, I've always been fascinated by ancient Egypt, especially Cleopatra." Belle mused, picturing for a moment the great pyramids of Egypt, the Pharos who sailed the Nile river in their grand boats, all under the heat of the exotic desert sun.

"I'm not surprised. A woman of remarkable intelligence, fluent in several languages, as charming as she was beautiful - I daresay you're something of a Cleopatra yourself."

Belle's eyes widened at the grand compliment. For a moment, she was well and truly speechless. "I...thank you."

Mr. Gold hurriedly cleared his throat and reclaimed the artifact, closing the preservation box and moving to put it on a shelf under the counter. He would get back to work on it later that evening. "How are things at the library?"

It was a lame change of subject, but small talk always worked as a distraction when he felt that he'd overstepped by saying too much.

Belle sipped at her soda again, then licked her lips. Gold pretended not to notice. "Things are going well. We're going to start hosting more events for the schoolchildren in relation to their projects - you know, like Solar System Saturday and Founding Fathers Friday."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Oh, it will be. I'm hoping this will lead to me working there full-time." She confided.

Gold blinked at this news. "You're only there part-time?"

"I'm there a few days out of the week. It's lucky you've caught me there so often."

Luck and the care to make sure to visit only when he'd seen her unlock the doors from his shop window so he wouldn't go inside to find the unpleasant Mrs. Mullins working the desk instead. He'd made that mistake once right after the library had opened, and would not do so again. But that Belle was only a part-time employee was a revelation, and distantly he wondered how she could afford her apartment with only partial work. Perhaps there was a lover she'd never mentioned to him who helped to pay in the keeping of her, but Gold dismissed the thought; he didn't like the notion of Belle with any man, and he knew dawn well why.

"Lucky for us both, I think." Gold remarked. "I'm sure no one else who visits brings anything of much interest with them."

"You wouldn't be wrong." She agreed.

The schoolchildren and the other patrons she saw during the week were all very kind, but none could hold a candle to Mr. Gold. After their first private visit, Belle had become convinced that he was the most interesting man in the world, having been everywhere and seen everything, and, luckily, he was willing to share his adventures with her own undeserving self.

"I never am."

"And you're never modest!" Belle laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder across the counter. "But you're right, no one else comes in with invitations to see scarabs or warrior masks or kimonos."

Only three weeks prior, Belle had been so taken with the Japanese garment that she'd asked to see it several times while he restored it for a museum in Chicago, even buying herself a cheap imitation robe off the Internet. Silly, she knew, but she liked to wear it and imagine herself as a pampered geisha while she drank green tea and ate noodles in her apartment on Sundays.

"I aim to please, though I don't have much else to show right now. I think you've seen it all."

That much might be true. Belle visited him in the shop so often that they may have gone over everything in his possession; every statue, music box, antique clock, painting and piece of jewelry had taken pride of place in Belle's eyes as they were restored by Gold's skilled hands.

He did have a house full of things he knew Belle would adore, of course, but the thought of her lost in the corridors of his home was too tempting to voice.

"Nonsense, there's always something to see!" To illustrate her point, Belle gestured to an ornate chess set that she was sure hadn't been there during her last visit to his shop only a few days before.

Gold took a breath, ready to explain the history of the set - he'd procured it from a private collection on learning that it had belonged to Hungarian nobility - but stopped short when he caught a glimpse of their charming Mayor Mills approaching the shop from across the street. As much as he relished the rivalry that had developed between them, Regina wouldn't hesitate to pull Belle into it...if she saw her, that was.

"Miss French, if you would please step into the back."

Belle looked up from the chess set. "Hmm?"

"Regina is coming. Please."

If Belle had ever thought this request to be rude, she had never said so, and did as he asked, slipping through the curtains just as Regina came through the door. Gold asking that Belle duck out to hide when he had another visitor had become part of their routine.

Regina Mills was a force to be reckoned with in Storybrooke. Intelligent, beautiful and completely fearless, their mayor stormed into his shop, a vision of alluring fury. Gold often thought she'd be prettier if she smiled more, but he wasn't one to talk when he was usually the reason for her scowls.

In his own way, Gold cared for Regina - her determination was admirable, she had worked for years to earn a measure of power that may overstep into his own if he didn't keep her in check. She had grown to be a worthy opponent, and he liked to think she enjoyed their rivalry as much as he did...but then again, he always came out on top in their boughts so it may not be all that fun for her.

Gold rested his palms on the counter, smiling at her in greeting. "Afternoon, Regina."

"That's Madame Mayor to you, Gold."

"You're in a mood today."

"Yes, I usually get a little moody when you turn the town council against my ordinance proposal!"

Just behind the scenes, Belle looked around, moving away from the curtain that separated the shop from the back room, which was more a workshop than an office, as Gold called it. There was a work table covered with hand tools and half of a rebuilt grandfather clock. She didn't linger on it, instead she settled on one of the stools and idly looked over an old nation map that had been laid out over the counter. She could hear the mayor and Mr. Gold sniping back and forth, but Belle tried not to eavesdrop. Their heated rivalry was legend, though no one knew why.

"...always coming to me...it's very flattering, dearie but I do have more important things to be doing..."

"...not what you were saying last night, as I recall you jumped at the chance to meet with me-"

"-and quite a lovely memory that was, one I'll treasure."

"Oh, please, the only things you treasure are in this shop. I should burn it to the ground and make you watch."

"My, is that jealousy?"

"Ugh, I'll see you later."

"Oh, I'm counting the minutes."

Belle could hear the sharp clicking of the mayor's Louboutins, followed by the sound of the shop door closing.

"Come on out, Miss French." Gold called over his shoulder as he watched Regina storm across the street.

Belle emerged from the back, her brows lifted. "Everything all right?"

Mr. Gold simply shrugged. "The mayor and I, we do love our quarrels."

"Sure sounds like it." Belle agreed. "I promise I wasn't eavesdropping, it's just that your voices carry."

"Did you see anything interesting while you were back there?" Gold asked, moving on from the topic of their cunning mayor.

She smiled. "I wasn't snooping, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good. If you had been, it would ruin the surprise."

"What surprise?"

"The new piece I'm to start restoring, once I've finished with the scarab."

"What is it?" Belle asked eagerly.

Gold gave her a mischievous grin, both hands planted on the handle of his cane. "Not telling."

Belle checked her watch and sent him a mock glare. "You're lucky I have to be getting back, but I'll get the truth out of you sooner or later."

"Looking forward to it." Gold teased.

Belle huffed past him and ran out the door.


	3. The Start

Months earlier, when the town had only just been emerging from the last dregs of winter, Gold had made habit of watching the renovation of the Storybrooke library.

For decades, there had been no library at all. Being a small beachside town, there had been no need when nearby Sunshire had a library large enough to share. A rapidly expanding population and a single, strong voice armed with half the town's signatures had been enough to force the city council to take notice.

The mayor had objected to the idea, citing the high cost of the construction, but the citizen support would not be silenced. Naturally, Gold had thrown himself into appropriating the funds, even donating a large sum from his personal balance to see the project given top priority after nudging its approval.

It was petty, of course, but he and Regina lived to be at odds over most things.

Once the location was scouted and architectural designs approved, construction began. Gold would pass the building every morning on his way to the shop and again, every evening when business was done for the day and he would return home.

Bit by bit, there was progress to be seen: the reparation of a large crack on the front face of the building, the remolding of the breezeway, the addition of bright decorative shutters on each side of the library's four windows that framed the front entrance, a fresh coat of cheery paint, a sign advertising the opening date.

The change was slow, the transition of a derelict building into what was to be both a library and community center was no small feat. A few words in the rights ears had hurried construction along. Having had a hand in the approval for its renovation, Gold had been eager to see the final product.

Perhaps he had grown bored with his routine haunts and had wanted to find a new place for himself, somewhere quiet where he could read or catch up on paperwork. His shop and even his home study had grown stifling in the past several years, and Miss Lucas grew irritable when he would occupy a prime boothe at Granny's to go over contracts with only an endless string of coffee refills on order.

So, he had waited a week or so after the grand opening before venturing inside with both curiosity and the genuine need for historical research.

The man had stepped in on a Tuesday morning to find a handful of patrons inside already: there was Donald Scott reading at a table, a pair of older ladies going through magazines, and a young pregnant woman lounging in a plush chair, balancing a novel on her swollen tummy.

She looked due at any time. Gold felt a shiver of remembrance and looked away.

"Good morning, can I help you find anything?"

Mr. Gold turned to his left to find a young woman approaching him. He raised a brow, taking in her apparent youth - the woman didn't look a day over thirty, a far cry from what most associated with the title of librarian. She was young, yes, and dressed in a smart pair of slacks and matching blazer, and, by Gold's estimate, she was trying just a bit too hard with her hair slicked back into a tight bun paired with black horn-rimmed glasses.

Well.

At least she was trying to look the part of the professional librarian, now to see if she was truly up to the task.

"Do you have anything on Apaches?"

The young librarian didn't miss a beat. "The Native American tribe or the military helicopters?"

At once, Gold was impressed. No small feat. "Ah, the tribe. I've come into a collection of arrowheads and I need to authenticate."

"I have just the book, right this way."

Gold followed her to the back section devoted to historical reference, then down an aisle where she dragged the tips of her fingers along the spine of each book they passed. She paused and pulled a book free, handing it to him proudly.

"This is the one. You'll find what you're looking for."

"You sound confident." He remarked, not taking the book from her. He kept his hands planted on the cane before him.

"I am." She turned the book over to show him the author's picture, an octogenarian professor from Arizona that Gold had never heard of. "See, the author is the leading authority on Native American culture. He tours for lectures, some of his fiction has been turned into movies and he's even won a Pulitzer for one of his past works. Trust me, this is the book."

Gold was, again, impressed by her knowledge. She'd rattled off the author's accomplishments without even a breath of hesitation. He nodded and took the book from her.

"I'll hold you to that, you know." It was something like a warning, but there was no steel behind his words.

"I'm sure you will. Did you need anything else?"

"No, but I'll be back if I don't find what I'm looking for in these pages."

The librarian raised her brows, taking his light challenge. "You'll be back either way."

"Hmm?"

"The book is due back in a week. I'll see you then."

That had been the first encounter between Mr. Gold and Miss Belle French, the first meeting of the minds and matching of wits, but it wouldn't be the last.

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><p>The young librarian, Miss French, the very same woman who had worked for the signatures to open the library in the first place, had been correct in her confidence for the book.<p>

Gold had gone back to return it after finding the information he'd needed, feeling the rare urge to thank her personally for her assistance. He'd found her in the back stacks after turning the book in to Mrs. Mullins at the front desk.

"Miss French?"

She'd looked up and smiled, recognizing him easily. "Was I right?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad I could help. Do you mind if I ask what you're going to do with the arrowheads?"

Gold raised his brows, slowly realizing that this young woman had no fear of him. No fear, no resentment, no obvious intent to manipulate. It had been quite some time since he'd met anyone who just wanted to make conversation.

"I'm planning to sell them to a collector in New Mexico. Once I found them to be genuine, the sale fell into place."

"You didn't waste any time."

"Most sales like these are time sensitive, it's part of the business."

"Antiques dealing?"

"Yes. I came to return last week's book and I've come looking for another."

Gold had explained to her the piece he'd come across, and saved them both time as he already knew the book he needed for his research - a rare Italian catalog that was older than he was, and not by a bit.

Storybrooke's library unfortunately did not carry a copy, as there were only eight copies in global circulation, and none of them were available in the States.

Gold had resigned himself to make due with whatever other sources he could find, unaware that Miss Belle French had sensed an opportunity for herself and refused to give up on it so easily.

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><p>It wasn't that she didn't know who he was.<p>

Almost everyone was familiar with Mr. Gold, the town pawnbroker, landlord, lawyer and dealer. He owned several apartment buildings, a few of them housing her friends though Belle herself didn't rent from him. She knew his reputation, the supposedly horrible Mr. Gold who instilled fear in the hearts of men and all other sorts of nonsense - the town gossip made him out to be some supernatural monster when really, he was just a crafty businessman.

It made her wonder why he lived in a small town like Storybrooke when he could make a real splash in Boston or New York, but she supposed everyone had their reasons for living where they did.

Belle shifted the tote strap on her shoulder, pausing outside the large storefront window.

She had seen the shop but she had never set foot inside simply because she possessed nothing valuable enough to pawn - even her mother's gold necklace wouldn't be worth more than $100 at the most and she was careful enough with her paychecks that she hadn't had to resort to that. With luck and hard work, she never would.

Rare antiques had never been on her shopping list either, so Belle's contact with Mr. Gold and his shop had been nonexistent until their recent connection at the library.

Well.

There was reason enough to approach the shop now, to visit the man on his own territory.

Belle stepped inside, her eyes roaming the dim space. There were so many curious things in the shop that she hardly knew where to look first: there was a wall hung with musical instruments; shelves of old, leather bound books; a gorgeous glass mobile hung from the ceiling, glinting in the sunlight coming in from the window; there were so many curious statues, so many little odds and ends...

Belle spied a counter at the back of the shop with a steaming up of tea on its surface, but no shop keeper. "Mr. Gold?"

She looked over as a curtain behind the counter was pulled back and the man himself appeared, raising a brow to see her. "Miss French, how can I be of service?"

Belle looked him over, dressed as always in a trim suit, matching tie and pocket square. She adored his style, formal as it was, and wondered what he thought of her own attire: not as tailored as his own, but she always made the effort to look polished.

"It's me who'll be servicing you today, Mr. Gold."

Gold blinked at her, his posture suddenly rigid. "Pardon?"

Too late, Belle realized how her words could have come across but she ignored the innuendo and went on, bringing the book out of her tote. "Special delivery, all the way from Milan."

His eyes widened slightly at the book, immediately excited. He needed the resource desperately. "Brilliant. How much do I owe you?"

Belle shook her head, "It's only on loan to us, so I can't sell it to you...but there is something I want."

Gold raised a brow at her, sensing a deal to be made. "_Quid pro quo_, is it? You hold something I need, I have something you want - come on, name your price."

Belle set the book on the counter between them. "This will be easy, I promise. I want to see the sculpture. Please, Mr. Gold. I've never seen anything like it outside of a museum."

No future favors? No gift?

The woman wanted such a simple thing, and she held the book he needed. Gold easily agreed to her term, and excused himself into the back room to retrieve the piece for her to see.

He was sure she expected something bigger, something grander, but what he had was only a simple statuette relic from the time of Galileo. When it was new, Gold was sure the sculpture had been a lovely thing, but traveling across the world, being smuggled through war zones and being handled for centuries had done the piece no favors.

He was amused when her eyes lit up as he revealed it. "Oh wow, it's gorgeous!"

"I'm not inclined to agree." Gold told her. He hadn't been impressed to come upon the piece but it might bring him some agreeable income if it was indeed genuine.

Belle had reached for it, but Gold was quick to still her hand with his own, his grip gentle so as not to hurt, but firm enough to convey his meaning. "You can touch anything else in the shop, but this piece is off-limits until I finish my work."

Belle nodded her understanding, and he released her hand. "Mr. Gold, can I come back? You have so many things in here..."

He saw no reason to refuse her. If Miss French was as interested in his work as she claimed, then there was no harm. And, he reasoned, it might be nice to have someone to talk to for a change.

"I can't promise you much entertainment." He admitted.

"I don't need a song and dance, this is fascinating on its own." She said eagerly, her eyes practically eating the statue's worn grooves and hairline cracks.

"You think so?"

"Of course! All this history, right here in front of us, just think what this statue has seen, the people who've owned it over the years."

It was her energy that made the choice for him. She was so excited to learn about his work, to see the process in action. There was a vibrancy to her, and she was lovely besides.

Gold cleared his throat. "You are welcome to visit any time, Miss French."

It was later on that day that Mr. Gold realized he genuinely liked her.

Belle of course, hadn't taken nearly so long to reach the same conclusion.


	4. Discretion

**Author's Note : Please read, review and enjoy!**

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><p>Perhaps a month or so after the beginning of his budding friendship, Gold had just settled in a booth at Granny's diner with a coffee beside his elbow, his breakfast of honeyed oatmeal with toast before him, and a few contracts at his side. It was Sunday, the shop would remain closed for the day, and so Gold chose to have an easygoing day to himself. A bit of paperwork with breakfast, and then he had shopping to attend to along with rent collection.<p>

"Mr. Gold!"

He looked up and found Miss French sliding into the booth to sit across from him. She looked different than he was used to seeing her; the most striking change was that her hair was let down from its usual twist, revealing loose curls that fell down her back. Added to that, tastefully smudged black liner circled her eyes and her lips were a deeper shade of berry. A kicky sundress, bright beaded necklace and sandals had taken the place of her professional attire. Small gold hoops hung from her ears.

So this was Miss French on a spring weekend. She was the very picture of pretty. "Good morning."

"What are you doing here?"

He gestured to the paperwork, "The shop is closed on Sundays, and I had a bit of work to go over before some errands. And you, Miss French?"

Belle shrugged lightly, "I'm in the same boat. Off work and free for the day. Do you mind if I share your table? It's already grown crowded in here."

Gold glanced about them, noticing the number of people coming in to stand about the counter until a free table opened. "Not at all. What'll you have?"

Belle eyed his coffee. "I would have another but I had a cup at home already. I'm more in the mood for something sweet."

Ruby approached and Belle ordered herself a croissant with strawberries and orange juice. Others worriedly noticed Belle sitting with Gold and assumed that they were arranging some kind of deal due to the paperwork on the table between them. Belle was not as oblivious to this as Gold might have wished.

"And what are your plans for today?" Gold asked, genuinely curious. It occurred to him that he didn't know much about her outside of her assistance in the library and the interest she had in his work, the history behind his antiques.

Belle shrugged lightly, "Well, I'm overdue for a haircut, for a start. Then I need to pick up some groceries and hit the laundromat. Jealous of my glamorous Sunday?" She asked with a smile.

Gold allowed a smile to flicker across his face in return, just for a moment. "I am. I'd rather visit the laundry than collect rent."

"Oh, you're doing that today?"

"Yes, and if this month is like all the others then I'm bound to hear every excuse there is about why payment will either be late or incomplete. Everything from the dog eating the cash or the mail having failed to deliver a check."

Belle thanked Ruby once she set down her plate and then sipped at her juice. "Someone tried that? Blaming it on the dog?"

"Pongo had a craving that day, I suppose. The only good thing about that story is the tenant can't give the same excuse twice."

Belle shared a laugh with him over that, and their conversation flowed as easily in the diner as it had at the shop during her visits. Gold posed a few more casual questions to her, and Belle did the same with him, both in the mood for a bit of harmless probing.

"I have an upcoming restoration project, Miss French." He informed her.

Belle leaned forward, her interest piqued. She loved that he gave her an inside look at his work, permitting her to see first hand what it was he did in the back room of the shop. Town gossip said he made shady deals all day long without a care over who was hurt, but obviously that was the pack of lies Belle knew it had to be.

"What's the project?"

"How familiar are you with the work of Salvador Dali?" Gold asked. He, in turn, loved this game they'd developed. He would mention an art style, a photographer or author, an instrument or a poetic movement, and then watch as the gears turned in Miss French's mind. In their albeit brief acquaintance, she had not disappointed him once.

Today was no exception. He watched as Belle briefly closed her eyes, no doubt pulling through her mind for everything she knew of the artist - from his paintings to his literature and then on to his political leanings and the museums established in his name.

In a breath, Belle told him what she knew off-hand, and recommended several books that would be helpful in researching the odd artist. Impressed, Gold went on to tell her of the painting that would pass hands between himself and a private collector after he'd done a touch of cleaning over the delicate canvas.

"You're so lucky to be in this position, to be surrounded by such beautiful things and the history behind them."

Gold shook his head at that. "I am fortunate, but I didn't fall into this. It's taken years of work to get to this point."

"Of course," Belle agreed. She hadn't meant to gloss over the decades of experience he'd gained, the rightful respect he'd earned in building his business. "I'm sure it's taken a lot of sleepless nights."

"Oh, it's taken more than a few of those." Gold remarked, his thoughts turning inward for a moment. Sometimes he couldn't fall asleep, and then there were nights when he refused to sleep...

"I know the feeling, Mr. Gold. When I was trying to petition the city for the funding toward the library, convince people to give their signature for support, I don't think I slept for a month." Belle reflected.

Gold was tempted to tell her that she owed him for the library, as the project never would have come to fruition had he not taken an interest just to annoy Regina. He instead kept quiet about his level of involvement; no doubt Belle knew he held a position on the city council and had heard the rumors surrounding his reach into all corners of the town, but he didn't want to take away from her accomplishment.

"The library is wonderful, Miss French. The community programs seem to be taking off as well." The renovated building that housed the library also hosted the town's community center; there were craft classes, continuing education courses, choirs and dance instruction, dog training and even a fitness gym with weekly sports focus.

Belle's smile brightened even further at his praise. "Thank you for saying that. I've taken a few of the dance classes over there but I think I'm a lost cause."

"Perhaps you just haven't found the right partner." Gold suggested.

"Oh, are you offering?"

It was with regret that Gold lifted his cane from where he'd rested it on his lap, reminding her of his limitation. "I would if I could, Miss French."

Belle nodded her understanding. "Maybe just a walk, then."

Gold shrugged and resettled the cane over his lap. Yes, just a walk, because the gods knew he couldn't run and any dance more than a slow box step would be out of the question. He wasn't sure how their conversation had taken this turn, but he didn't like having to remind her that, unlike every other man in Storybrooke, he alone was unable to dance with her.

_Nothing for it now,_ he decided. _Best to stay on safe ground._

Belle noticed a frown that passed over Mr. Gold's face as he set down his cane, but just as quickly, it was gone, and he began to discuss the Dali painting once more. There was a challenge in his voice that she recognized; he was testing her knowledge, part of the game they'd developed, part of a budding routine.

Well, Belle would not disappoint him.

Before they'd realized the time, Belle and Gold had talked near to the lunch hour after the mention of the Dali piece had naturally lead them to discuss their other favored artists. Gold had found himself having fun with the lively debate, and delighted to find Miss French to be just as sharp as he when it came to art history.

Unfortunately, it was Belle who realized the time. "Oh, Mr. Gold we'll have to finish this later - we've been talking for over two hours!"

Gold checked his watch. It hadn't seemed to him that any time had passed but the hands of his watch weren't lying. "Time flies, Miss French. Let me take care of this," he said once he saw her reaching into her purse. Gold was a modern man, but certain habits would never die - a woman shouldn't pay for a meal shared with a man, never mind that their combined breakfasts hadn't topped $10.00.

It was the principle of the thing.

Gold left $20 on the table and guided her toward the door of the diner, a gentle hand on the small of her back.

They parted ways at the corner, he off to collect the rent and she to her own errands.

It had been their first meeting in public, and the town had taken notice.

* * *

><p>After leaving Mr. Gold, Belle hurried toward the Seaside Spa &amp; Salon. It was a tiny spot, tucked into a strip between a children's clothing store and an ice cream parlor. Despite the location, the salon did a good bit of business - there being no other quality salons to create competition had allowed Ariel Finn, Belle's friend since middle school, to corner the market.<p>

"I know, I know I'm late!" Belle called out as she rushed in the door. "It was my fault, please tell me you didn't give away my appointment."

Two of the other hairdressers, Melody and Harmony, Ariel's older and younger sister, respectively, greeted Belle and reassured her she'd still get her slot.

"Haven't seen you lately, Belle."

"Ariel will see you in just a minute. She's finishing up with Jasmine in the back. How's it going with the library?"

Belle gratefully set her purse down on the counter of Ariel's station and made small talk with both the sisters and their clients, all of them happily catching up.

"-just the best color!"

Belle looked to the back of the salon and smiled to see Jasmine, another old friend from school, striding out with a fresh manicure and Ariel just two steps behind her.

The pair were opposites in looks but identical in their bright smiles on seeing Belle. "Well, look who finally decided to show up!" Ariel greeted her with a quick hug.

Belle huffed lightly, "I know and I'm sorry, want me to beg for forgiveness?"

Jasmine tossed her ebony hair over her shoulder. "Ariel's not the type to make anyone squirm, but you'll definitely need to promise a great tip unless you want to walk out of here with a pixie cut."

Ariel nodded her agreement as she settled Jasmine's bill at the front. "I've been trying to get her to try a shorter look for years. I don't know, Jas, today might be the day."

Jasmine signed her receipt and handed it back to her. "I'd love to see that, promise to send me a pic."

Ariel waved as Jasmine left the salon and turned back to Belle. "Now, you. I think either a spikey Mohawk or maybe a curly little Afro - which will you have?"

Harmony laughed and Melody called out, "C'mon, don't torture her!"

Ariel shook her head. "All right, all right. Ruin all my fun. What'll you have, B?"

"Just the usual, please."

"Your usual. A wash and a trim, that's it?"

Belle shrugged. "That's all my budget allows for, I'm afraid."

Ariel loved her job and she was exceptionally skilled; most of the women of Storybrooke owed their fabulous hair to the petite redhead, but she was something of an artist and longed to experiment on her friends. Unfortunately for her, Ariel's friends were too traditional and perhaps a bit too sane to agree to blue and pink streaks or a half-shaved head.

"And here I thought you were saving your pennies for me." Ariel groused. She knew that Belle had to be careful with what little money she had, but Belle always insisted on paying full price for her services, refusing Ariel's offer of a friendly discount.

"Just the trim, Ariel."

"Fine, you know the drill. Let's get you washed up." Ariel lead the way to the short row of sinks and put a towel around Belle's shoulders. Belle settled into the tilted chair and leaned back into the hot water. Ariel stood to her left and began to massage a palmful of shampoo into her hair.

"So the word is you met with Mr. Gold at the diner this morning."

Belle blinked in surprise. "How do you know about that?"

Ariel shrugged. "Grapevine. Ruby texted Jasmine while I was doing her nails, Jasmine told me. So...?"

"We were just sharing the table when it got too crowded and ended up arguing over Dali and Tintoretto." Belle said easily. She'd noticed that they'd earned a few glances from other customers at the diner but she hadn't thought their having breakfast to be worth much gossip.

Then again, this was Storybrooke and Mr. Gold was an important man.

"I've heard things about him."

At her prompting, Belle stood up and they moved to the chair where Ariel began to comb out her hair.

"Like what?"

With all care, Ariel began to snip off the split ends of Belle's hair. "He makes shady deals, they say he cheats everybody. People are afraid of him."

"It's the gossip that sounds shady. Do you actually know him?" Belle asked, growing annoyed now. Really, she shared breakfast with the man and her friend acted as if she was courting a crime lord.

Snipping away, Ariel shrugged. "No, just what I've heard."

"Well, he was nice enough to me." Belle said.

Ariel shrugged, and wondered if it wasn't too late to cut Belle's hair into a pixie.

"I'm just saying be careful. You don't earn a reputation like his by accident."

* * *

><p>"I have a strange question for you." Belle announced on entering the pawn shop before its owner even had the chance to greet her. Where she had thought a certain gossip topic would drop, the rumors had grown with each passing day and she'd been forced to nod through concerned lectures.<p>

Gold raised a brow, curious now. "I'm all ears."

"After we had breakfast on Sunday, did anyone give you a hard time?" She asked, dragging over a stool so that she could sit across from where he was standing behind the counter.

It was irritating - in the course of three days, Belle had been warned by as many people that Mr. Gold was too clever for her to tangle with, all of them under the assumption that she and Gold had been working on some kind of loan or personal arrangement. Clearly, the two of them just sharing breakfast was impossible to consider.

She was met with a blank expression, and then bit her tongue. Of course no one would hassle Mr. Gold - he gave orders, he didn't take them.

"It's just, I got a warning lecture from three people that I need to be careful around you."

Understanding dawned in Gold's eyes. "Oh, that old speech, how I'll cheat you on every deal until I own your life. I'm quite familiar, and yes, I was reminded to keep my hands to myself around you as well."

"What?!"

"You're lucky to have so many concerned friends, but I can't say I appreciate the insinuations." Gold said easily, as if this was all business as usual for him. It wasn't, and he wouldn't tolerate being warned away from her again, but he was interested in her reaction.

She was angry, that much he could tell from the flash in her eyes.

Belle knawed at the inside of her cheek and counted to ten, trying to get her temper under control. "If they were really my friends they wouldn't jump to conclusions and then warn you behind my back."

"I agree."

"Can I ask who spoke to you?" Belle asked. Whoever it was that approached Gold, she would be more than happy to give them a piece of her mind.

Mr. Gold quirked his lips. "I've already dealt with them."

Again, Gold's voice was smooth, careless. Belle couldn't understand why the man didn't seem insulted, or more upset. Why hadn't he called her to complain about her supposed friends harassing him? Was he truly so indifferent to being watched, his every move seen as suspicious?

Mr. Gold only appeared amused over these assumptions on their innocent breakfast, whereas Belle was near furious by the invasion into her personal life. Small towns were notorious for everyone knowing everyone else's business, and all at once, Belle _hated_ it in Storybrooke. She longed for the anonymity of living in a larger city, but that was a dream she'd already let slip through her fingers time and time again.

Gold slowly tapped his fingertips on the counter top. "So, if you were warned by so many people to stay away...why did you come back?"

"The last time I checked, I was a grown woman. No one tells me who I should spend my time with, I'm the only one to decide that." Belle took a breath and looked back to him, "And besides, I trust my intuition. If you were half as bad as they said, I'd have felt it by now and stayed away on my own."

"Famous last words, Miss French." Gold told her with something like a smile touching his lips.

Belle laughed at him, sure he was just playing with her now. She knew it, _this_ was the Mr. Gold that so few people knew about; he was usually very aloof, even to her, but he had a wicked sense of humor when he chose to show it.

"If I go dark on you, just remember: you were warned."

Belle brushed off this warning just as she had all the others. "Sure, sure. How about we just be discreet when we meet up from now on? I don't need five lectures every time I see you."

Gold raised his brows. "You still want to-?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

It was not in Gold's nature to cheat himself out of a good thing, and visits from a woman who found him fascinating had become the highlights of his week. He enjoyed Belle's intelligence and took pleasure in her beauty, but fair was fair. She deserved to know.

He looked at her seriously. "You know the reputation that precedes me, Miss French. It's not all true, but enough of it is that you should think twice before we go on as friends."

She looked back at him, her face as serious as he'd ever seen it. They stood, staring. He could see her considering his words, because after all, it was one thing to be warned by a few concerned friends, and quite another to be warned off by the man himself.

"Mr. Gold, you're the most interesting man in the world. It's going to take more than a little gossip to scare me away." Belle smiled at him.

She had made her choice, and she chose him.

Gold tried to ignore the warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. So he had a friend, nothing to get excited about. Still...a friend, after so long a time without...

"Perhaps not the world, but certainly in this town." Gold mused, more pleased with her than he could easily say. He cleared his throat and gave her his best condescending sneer. "Fine then, if you are so determined to intrude in on my life, inflicting your presence with your constant questions and chatter, I suppose I can tolerate you for a bit longer."

Belle burst out laughing, and this time he joined her.

"You're so generous!" She extended her hand, still laughing. "Let's be friends and just keep it to ourselves. The gossips can go find someone else to talk about."

"My thoughts exactly." Gold agreed as he shook her hand.


	5. Closer

**Author's Note: Please read, review and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Blinking away that memory from weeks ago, Gold kept their agreement in mind when he saw Belle crossing the street toward his shop. Her visits were brief, but always welcome. Judging by her smart blazer and pencil skirt, she was working the library. Gold glanced at his watch. 12:15. This would be one of her lunch hour visits, though she hadn't brought anything with her this time. She had spoiled him with her gifts of flavored tea and the sandwiches made for them to share.<p>

No matter, he could brew tea for two.

"Good afternoon, Miss French."

She smiled at him, and Gold was certain his shop was brighter for it. "Hi, Mr. Gold."

"Busy day in the stacks?"

Coming closer, she pulled up the stool reserved solely for her, and sat across the counter from where he stood. "Just a bit. A group of the schoolchildren came in, they each checked out five books, and then I hosted a reading circle."

He raised a brow at that. "Reading circle?"

"It's one of our book clubs. They decide on the book and discuss amongst themselves, I just host and handle the check-outs." Belle leaned in closer, "Between you and me, I'm grateful that's all I have to do for this club, their choices are awful!"

"Enlighten me, Miss French."

"With the other clubs, I host and participate in the discussion. With this circle it's just been one bodice-ripper after another." She groused. "I suppose I should be happy that they're reading anything, and that they've chosen to use the library for their meetings, but I just can't get past their selections!"

Mr. Gold shared a remorseful laugh with her. "I take it they haven't run with your recommendations?"

Belle shrugged. "I ought to remove the romance section from the literature area all together. You know, from the look they gave me when I offered them something besides yet another story of a dashing rogue tamed by love, you'd think I was crazy. I might be the only one in town with an appreciation for Burns."

"Well, you and the only resident Scotsmen here, yes." Gold chided her. "Is this your way of reminding me to return _The Merry Muses_?"

She shook her head. "Not at all, I've already entered an extension for you."

"You did?"

"I've learned your habit, Mr. Gold." Belle thought on Burns, and wondered for a moment if the man would read a poem to her - it would be lovely to hear his accent touch the words. Her own voice slowed and grew deeper as a scene unfolded in her mind: Mr. Gold reading to her in the empty library, his burr defiantly loud in the space, enveloping her. "One week isn't long enough to get the full flavor of Burns. His poetry is meant to be savored."

Gold was always pulled in when Belle spoke of her favorite authors. She was passionate in her love of books, and when she spoke of Keats, Burns, of McCall-Smith and Cisneros, Belle to him seemed to grow sensual. Even now, he could see her cheeks and throat had grown heated speaking of poetry. She was so lovely, but she was not for him.

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "You talk about it like food."

Belle blinked, shaking off her thoughts of the man, and tried for a joke to cover her embarrassment. Really, she couldn't let herself get so carried away. "Trust me, if I could live off books, I would. All the nourishment and none of the fat."

"If wishes were horses, we all would ride." Gold remarked. "So, Miss French, what do you do with yourself when you're not at the library, feeding your mind?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Belle thought, reflecting on this week's schedule. "Well...when I'm not working at the library I try to pick up other work where I can. Lately I've been picking up shifts at Game of Thorns."

"Oh, the florist shop. I'm familiar. Do you like it?"

She shrugged, wondering why he was asking about this. "It's not too bad. A job's a job, and I like the customers who come in. The only bad thing about flowers is that they can wilt so quickly."

"I suppose that would depend on the flower."

Belle watched as Mr. Gold slipped the pocket square out of his suit and laid it on the counter between them. He folded, refolded and rolled the silk square until he presented it to her, the material resembling a perfect red rose. "Here, if you'll have it."

Belle accepted it from him, her hands cupping the silk to keep it from crumpling. The gift was a lovely surprise. "Why thank you."

Mr. Gold granted her a warm look as she took the silk. She was such a pleasure to him, a window into the life of the city that his notoriety forbade him. He knew the people's finances, their weaknesses, their _price_.

But Belle? She had sensed the need for a greater sense of community and fought to bring such a place to the people. She was lovely, she was kind, and more, she was _loved_. Gold had seen that for himself. The children who hopped with excitement in line outside of the library, waiting for Midnight Story Circle; the patrons who greeted her so warmly both at the circulation desk and when they saw her on the street; the group of friends held tight from her schooldays.

Gold envied her all that, he supposed, but he had built himself into a monster for decades and it was too late to change that now. He didn't want to change it. Better a monster than a man.

They did not speak of his work during this visit, instead speaking of idle things, of each other and themselves, sharing a few chapters of their life story. Belle didn't mind, she always wanted to know more of her mysterious friend, and the price for that was a give and take: Mr. Gold would only answer one of her questions when she'd answered one of his.

All too soon, their time was up.

"I'm afraid I have to get going, Mr. Gold." She said with some regret.

Gold frowned. He'd keep her with him if he could.

The man came around the counter and walked her to the door. "Always a pleasure, Miss French."

Belle opened the door and gave him one last smile. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. I'll catch you later."

Gold quirked his lips in return and inclined his head as she stepped out of the shop. He watched as she crossed the street, trying and failing to dispel the tickling flutter in his chest. Lately it came to him with Miss French's visits and he refused to delve too deeply into why that might be.

* * *

><p>Belle looked at Mr. Gold's handkerchief, still coiled into a rose. She'd taken his illusion a step further by tucking it into a tube vase and set it on the card table she had in the corner of her apartment. Rather than any floral scent, the silken rose smelled of the man: the scent of clean skin, of the shop where he spent so many hours, and a spiced note of his cologne.<p>

The woman wasn't sure why she'd done it, cradling the silken rose all the way back to her apartment before returning to the stacks that afternoon. She just knew that looking at it made a smile cross her face, the folds of silk giving rise to thoughts of Mr. Gold, the man surrounded by his treasures, a clever smile on his face with warmth for her in his eyes.

Belle shivered.

She had already chosen Mr. Gold as her friend, deciding for herself that he was a man to know. He was interesting, clever, and despite his feigned annoyance with her chatter, she knew he enjoyed their time together.

There was something between them, Belle knew. She ignored the gossip about him but she could see for herself that he had made an exception for her in his life. She hated to think that he was lonely, but by the same token she enjoyed the knowledge that she alone was invited to watch his work, she alone could call Mr. Gold her friend.

Her friend, only ever met with in private, they were each other's best kept secret.

She didn't mind, since she had volunteered the agreement with him. It was amusing to hide in the back room of the shop and listen in as he traded barbs and strange innuendos with the mayor. Sometimes it was another barging into the shop, and Belle would make it behind the curtain just a moment before being seen - that added a thrill to their visits, the rush of almost being found out.

Belle smiled to herself.

Keeping their connection discreet was a small price to pay for what she had gained from the man in return. A source of humor, a sounding board for her plans at the library, a confidant in her harmless little schemes. It made her wonder what Mr. Gold could see in her, but he might appreciate her for similar reasons: in Belle he had a companion to discuss his work with, a helpful research assistant, a pleasant distraction from the decidedly _un_pleasant aspects of being landlord and cheif moneylender to the town.

So they each had their role to play. Belle was content enough with her friend for now, it was the future that concerned her.

* * *

><p>Slowly, in their time together Gold opened himself up to Belle. She knew his favorite films and music, she knew his humor, he had told her of how he was raised in Scotland. That was not to say Gold was careless with what he told Miss French.<p>

Carelessness was not something that Gold could afford.

Aside from stories of his young life in Scotland - running about causing neighborhood mayhem with his friends; his first puppy love on an older girl when he had hit the mature age of nine years old and thought to impress her with a handful of blooms pulled from his own flat's flower bed, dirt and all - Gold had not revealed any details of his personal past or the present business dealings that Miss French had been warned against.

The man had grown to enjoy her company far too much to risk losing her now, and he knew that she would end their friendship without a thought if the truth of the warnings were made plain to her.

But there, in the confines of Gold's shop, he was free to play for her attention. Despite his first warning that his work in the shop wouldn't entertain her, he had taken on the role of entertainer himself. The week before had been a rose folded from his pocket square. Belle had taken it with her, what she'd done with it was anyone's guess.

Today, Gold had taken to impressing her with a few card tricks after he'd found a deck in the back. Her eyes followed quick hands as he shuffled the cards, then fanned them out before her. Belle took one card and then replaced it in the deck and he continued shuffling, cutting the cards again and again on the counter. Gold held one card out to her and she smiled. "That's it!"

Gold flipped the card between his fingers, making it disappear and reappear. He was showing off and loving every minute of her attention. "The Queen of Hearts. That's fitting, in a way."

"Where'd you learn magic?" She watched as he spun her card in his hand, mesmerizing her.

"You pick things up as you go along." He said easily.

"Could you teach me?"

Gold looked up, quirking his lips. "And reveal all of my secrets? Miss French, you know better than that."

"Not all of them, just a few." She batted her lashes. "Please?"

"I...I'll think about it." He grumbled as he set the deck aside, sure that the woman could charm all his secrets away if she put her mind to it. He didn't mind teaching her since it would entice her to keep coming back to see him; it was just a bit of fun to pretend at being stubborn where she was concerned.

Belle sent him a smug grin, pleased with her little victory. "Thank you. So, have you terrorized any villagers lately?"

Mr. Gold outright laughed at that. "Why, yes, just the other day in actual fact. It was a loan agreement, the collateral being the client's firstborn."

Belle shook her head, chiding him. "You're losing your edge, Mr. Gold. If you pressed harder you might have gotten all his children."

He shrugged, nodding. "I'll prove I still have my fangs on the next deal. If you hear anyone crying about my having stolen their whole family tree, you only have yourself to blame."

Belle giggled, "You're awful!"

"That I am. Oh, I wanted to ask after any books you might have on Grecian jewelwork."

"Greek jewelry? Do you have something?"

Gold noted how her eyes brightened at the prospect, making a mental note of her interest. "Not yet. I will soon, the piece has to travel through a few different channels before it reaches me."

Belle thought back to the library, reviewing what she had on hand to offer. "I have several books about Greek history and culture, three language dictionaries and the Homeric literatures. I'll go through and see what else I can scare up for you."

"Thank you, Miss French. Your assistance is very much appreciated."

"My pleasure." Belle idly spun one of the globes he kept on the shelf nearest the counter, thinking of the far off places she'd longed to see when she was a girl and life seemed like such an adventure, before the struggle became so real. "Have you traveled a lot, Mr. Gold? Other than immigrating here, I mean."

Gold nodded. "Well, yes. I've seen a bit of the world. Europe is smaller than you might think, and it's easy to travel there. The U.K., of course, and then France, Germany, Italy, Portugal and Spain on the continent. I've been to Greece as well. This was all when I was younger, of course. I've stayed put for the past two decades."

"Why?"

The why of it all was a plain truth. He took a breath, forcing away rising memories. "I haven't anyone to travel with anymore."

Belle might have asked him who he'd traveled with in the past, why he was alone now, but there was something in his eyes that kept her silent. Mr. Gold's reasons were his own. Out of respect, she didn't press the issue, and instead asked him about what he'd seen in Portugal, if Paris was truly as beautiful as the movies made it seem, and if he preferred the food in Italy or Spain. Her chatter was a way to fill the silence, weave her insights into the stories of his past travels.

The man answered her questions, but all too soon, Miss French had to depart and return to the life waiting for her outside the walls of his shop. He watched as she strode down the street toward the library, and let himself imagine her at his side on a global vacation through Europe. For her, he would travel again, show her the world she clearly craved to explore.

Gold ticked his head to the side, banishing the thought. He returned to the counter and refused to let himself become distracted by any further thoughts of Miss French.


	6. Rumplestiltskin

**Author's Note: I wanted to wait a little longer to post this chapter because it's special, but I just couldn't resist! Please read, review and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Gold set the rusted cogs of a mistreated grandfather clock aside once he heard the tinkling of the bell at the front of the shop. He stepped past the curtain and over to the counter to greet his customer, but stopped short on recognizing the face under a mane of fresh russet curls.<p>

"Miss French, you changed your hair."

Belle smiled, pleased that he had noticed. Marcus and Shane had been so oblivious to the change when she'd visited them that she'd wondered if dying her hair had even been worth the effort...but then again, most men were colorblind so she shouldn't have expected them to pick up on the new shade, stereotypes be damned.

"Ariel finally convinced me to go red. It's just a color rinse, I wanted to try something different." She told him, admiring her hair in the reflection of a standing mirror. Her usual chocolate hair shone with a distinct auburn cast now. Not a permanent change, but a nice change all the same.

"It's very striking, you're lovely as ever." Gold said, and his words were true. Her looks set her apart from any other woman in Storybrooke, to him the dye was only gilding the lily. He would find her alluring in any shade.

"Why thank you." Belle preened under his gaze. His compliments always left a lasting impression with her, a word from him could keep her smiling for days on end. "This was just for fun, I'll be back to my natural color soon enough."

"Natural is all well and good until you start to sport fifty shades of gray." He remarked, gesturing to his own hair.

Belle gasped, "You're into that?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh, don't!" Belle admonished him, realizing he'd only meant his hair color. She hoped he didn't ask after the blush that was flooding her cheeks. "Your gray adds character, makes you handsome. I've always thought you look distinguished, Mr. Gold."

Unaware that he may have piqued Belle's interest in bondage, Gold thanked her and shelved any passing thoughts he'd had about dying his hair to shave a few years off his appearance. Belle had just admitted to finding him attractive, so he wouldn't change a thing.

"Thank you, Miss French, though I think that compliment is owed more to my suits than my looks."

He had never seen himself as being particularly handsome. While comfortable enough with the face he had been graced with, the man still surrounded himself with fine things to heighten his image. Everyone had their own sense of vanity.

Belle shook her head, "No, no, no. It's the whole package. Here, come see what I see."

She lead him over to the mirror and stood beside him in the glass. There they were, he in his dark formal suit and she in her breezy dress and rose nail varnish; Gold thought they looked like the split half of two separate couples, thrown together and completely mismatched.

Belle shared this thought, but she was more amused than anything about their differences. Mr. Gold always seemed ready for business, the Storybrooke master of dealing, while she appeared ready to skip off shopping at the Sunshire mall.

How was it that they were so at odds on the surface but shared so many similarities in private?

"There, see? You're lovely yourself, Mr. Gold."

The man shook his head, shying away from the mirror and reclaiming his place behind the counter. He could entertain fantasies all day, but to see the proof of Belle at his side, how bubbly and vibrant she was compared to him, it was actually painful. Her compliments rang false, surely she was only being kind when he'd been self-depricating.

_Enough of this._

"Let's not get carried away, dearie. So, other than coming to show off how lovely you are, what else brought you here?"

"Was I that obvious?" Belle asked. "All right, Mr. Gold, I had actually come to ask you for a favor."

Gold raised a brow. "Favor?"

"Yes." Belle took a deep breath. She knew she could convince the man, it all came down to how she was going to do it. He was too clever to be flattered or tricked into agreeing, her best bet was to be honest with him.

"There's a new program I want to start, live readings for the children on Saturday nights. I wrote a script for this weekend, but I can't read for two main characters." She eyed him meaningfully before going on, "Not when one of the characters is a man and holds a certain _unique_ presence. So I was thinking..."

Gold understood at once. "You want me to read to children with you? Me. Miss French, I had thought you were well-versed in the tales of my wrath and depravity."

He felt a deep sense of relief within to know that Miss French only wanted his help with the reading. Had she come to him wanting a favor of money, he would have felt used in a way, as if her entire bid for their friendship had been a ruse toward financial gain.

Still, though, he wasn't the best choice for this and Belle had to have known that before she even came into his shop.

"You are not what people think, and you can prove it by doing this." Belle's eyes became earnest. "Please, Mr. Gold?"

"You seem to think I want them to see past the rumors."

"You don't?"

"No."

Belle's face fell into disappointment, and Gold found himself rushing to recover her smile. "But it would be unexpected, and I do love to keep the people here unbalanced...all right. I'll do it."

"You will?" She smiled and reached across the counter, resting her hand over his as was her friendly habit.

"For you, yes."

"This will be fun, you'll see."

"Miss French, you will come to regret this." Gold told her, his voice flat with certainty.

"How?"

The man spread his arms, planting his palms on the counter and leaning toward her. "I'm doing you a favor. There will come a day when I decide that you owe me a favor in return."

Belle narrowed her eyes. "I don't like the sound of that."

"No one ever does." Gold gave her a sly smile. "So, I'll read for you. And you'll grant me a favor somewhere down the line. Deal?"

The man extended his hand out to her, letting it hover in the space between them. Belle held his gaze with her own, refusing to let him scare her with his theatrics.

It was clear that he expected her to take back her request, to find someone else to read her script rather than owe him anything.

But Mr. Gold was not the only one to thrive on doing the unexpected.

Belle took his hand, "Deal."

* * *

><p>Several days later, Gold could be found in the library, waiting for showtime.<p>

The man had agreed to read Belle's story written for the children, taking on the lines of a demon who begins the tale as a mad villain and ends as a redeemed friend to the princess, played by none other than Belle herself.

The children's area of the library was bright and colorful with cheery displays and READ posters on the walls; the stage Gold found himself on was small, but adapted to their purpose for tonight. It had been adorned with fake flowers, a backdrop of a forest and a castle set the scene for their young audience. The backdrop would change twice more before the end of Belle's tale: once to a dark, forbidding cave where his character lamented his loneliness, and then again to a bright throne hall within the palace.

Once the show started, Belle was to wear a glittery costume gown over her day clothes, complete with a matching plastic tiara she'd already secured in her hair. The costume had been rented from a party store, and Belle had even paid extra for the black cape that Gold would secure over his shoulders, though he'd refused to put on any of the makeup that had come along with the costume.

A man had to draw the line somewhere.

It wasn't like her to waste money on costumes, but the initial performance was important to keep the program going. With Sydney Glass coming tonight to observe, she had to make an impression.

Nervous, Belle reviewed her script again, pacing back and forth before Gold, repeating the opening dialogue under her breath.

"O, our kingdom is so peaceful and true - my child shall someday take the crown and rule toward a fair future...O, our kingdom is so peaceful and true..."

She and Mr. Gold were not alone in the library. Mrs. Mullins was at the front, ready to hand out little bags of popcorn and cups of juice to the audience as they filed in. The older woman had been unhappy to learn that the town monster would be involved with the play, and had snapped at them both, convinced that Gold would ruin the production for his own petty pleasure.

While Belle had tried to reassure the senior librarian, Gold had been happy to let her think he'd manipulated his way into the program, sniping at her every time Belle moved out of earshot.

"Miss French, I think you have woefully miscast this character. I'm not even German."

Belle turned to him. "I think the children will forgive a misplaced accent if your performance is up to par." She returned easily, baiting him.

"You doubt it will be?"

Her expression was falsely sympathetic as she came closer. "I don't know. I mean, you're not a public speaker and a bit of stage fright is understandable. It's all right if you're afraid of the children-"

He reared up and snatched the script out of her hand, "Give me that."

Belle smiled as he paged through her story, his eyes skimming through the lines. He retook his seat and she went on to help Mrs. Mullins bring in more chairs and arrange the snack table.

Gold remained, tapping his cane on the floor while he read.

Miss French's casting of him as a misunderstood villain was not lost on Gold. She thought to show him as worthy of sympathy, she wanted the town to see him as more than a cunning landlord and dealer.

_She is too good for this world._

He watched as she returned from the front and moved up the stage. Belle had gone to special pains to keep her "mystery guest reader" a secret from the audience, rigging a curtain intended to hide him from both the parents and the children as they filed in through the doors.

"This is a nice change," Gold had remarked as Belle explained her plan for his reveal. "Me hiding behind a curtain while you deal with the people up front."

Belle checked the rig pull one last time before coming down from the ladder, placing her hand in his to keep her balance. "Our agreement was the inspiration for this, actually." Belle stood at the front of the tiny stage, explaining her vision to him. "It'll be perfect. Right as your character enters the story, I'll pull the rope and there you are. Then you just start reciting your part."

"And be ready for the riots that ensue from the parents, desperate to protect their young from the monster on stage."

"Oh, don't start." Belle groused.

"I meant the character. He nearly steals your baby." Gold gestured to the script. "But they won't be happy with you for bringing me in on this either, Miss French."

"No, after tonight they'll see you as you really are."

"You may not enjoy that."

"Mr. Gold, you're a businessman, not a monster! I swear, you've started to believe the gossip yourself." Belle laughed.

Gold had sighed lightly at that, her faith in him. He couldn't understand why she defended him when she had been warned by so many, he himself had even given her fair warning that there was truth to the rumors. Belle had ignored his words, insisting on their friendship and he hadn't the strength to send her away.

He would have gone on arguing with her, but Belle hurriedly hid him behind the curtain as the first children came through the doors.

Gold stood patiently, pulling on his cape and hood, listening as more and more people came in, their happy chatter filling the air along with the scent of buttery popcorn from the snack table. He could pick out her voice in the din, cheery and excited, thanking everyone for showing up, welcoming them inside, guiding them to their seats. She had put in so much effort with the library programs, it had been impossible for him to refuse her this favor.

He knew what she wanted to happen tonight. For her to pull away the curtain in the big reveal, the shock value of the fearsome Mr. Gold brought in to read a story for the town's children. Her hope for his acceptance and then, the hope that they could enjoy their friendship in public without censure.

Lovely woman, but naive to think she could change anything with one child's play.

Regardless of all that, he had given his promise to perform the reading of _The Princess Meets Rumplestiltskin_ to the best of his ability. Listening to Belle greet people as they came in, he wanted to surpass even her hopes for his performance.

Rumplestiltskin. An impish demon determined to trick a princess into giving him her child, all because he was so very lonely and only wanted the child for company. Upon learning of this, the fair princess says his name and invites him to live with her in the castle, where they all live happily ever after in friendship and peace.

Gold rolled his eyes. _Fairy tale_.

He knew all too well that there was no happy ending for someone like him. He'd had it all once, but just as quickly it had been torn out of his life. He wouldn't have a second chance.

He would perform the reading, have a bit of fun in playing a clever monster. It would surprise the town and earn him a favor from her in future, though he hadn't any true intention to collect. He only needed her to believe it of him.

There was a fearsome reputation to uphold.

It was all he had.

* * *

><p>The play lasted over an hour, but to them it passed in a flash. Actors often remarked on the rush of performance, losing themselves in the fun of taking on a character.<p>

Neither Gold nor Belle had any acting experience to speak of, this little play performed before the children and parents of Storybrooke was their Broadway.

Gold watched from behind the curtain as "princess" Belle spoke of her fair kingdom, the lands that would fall to her beautiful daughter - a rubber baby doll swathed in a pink bath towel. He watched as she performed for their audience, pouring herself into the role. Her eyes were bright, her smile as cheery as he'd ever seen it - she desperately wanted this program to go on, it was clear in her every word and gesture.

"O! But I hear something - someone has been watching us from the woods! Who is that, there? Show yourself!"

Gold watched as Belle reached for the rope and gave it a quick tug, the curtain rising up to reveal him to the audience. But for a small handful, the children had no idea of who he was, but the reaction from the adults in their audience was palpable. A wave of surprised murmurs passed through the library, he and Belle paused to let it die down before he spoke to the princess who'd discovered his hiding spot.

"Well, well, well, it seems you've found me out, dearie!" He trilled.

No one had ever seen this side of him, and if Belle's wide eyes were anything to go by, then none in Storybrooke had even thought him capable of such playfulness.

Well.

He'd been a father.

"I - And who are you to spy on us?" The princess asked of him.

Gold stepped forward, twirling his cane, the look on his face somewhat snide and predatory. Rumplestiltskin was lonely, true, but wary of the royalty and didn't take kindly to disrespect. "Me? I am a master of powerful magic, and not to be challenged!" He thundered his voice and ended with a mad giggle, relishing Belle's expression as he did so. "Who are you to frolic in _my_ woods?"

"I am the princess of this realm. You know this by my crown," she said, pointing to the tiara atop her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard your song." Gold said idly. Here he took a playing card and spun it in his hand, delighting as the children gasped at the sight of Rumplestiltskin's magic. "And now I'd like to make a deal."

A soft resigned murmur from the adults rolled through the audience. Naturally Mr. Gold would be dealing. Even in character, he was ever searching for an agreement that would favor him.

Belle furrowed her brows. "A deal?"

Gold giggled again. "Yes, my dearie, dear, a deal! Tell me, princess, you do love Avonlea, do you not?"

"Of course. My kingdom is the fairest the world has ever known. My daughter will bloom here and rule when her time comes."

Gold, or rather, Rumplestiltskin rubbed his hands together greedily. "I can see the future, one of my many great powers." Here he touched his fingers to his temples. "A great sorrow will befall the whole of Avonlea, and forever plunge the land into darkness."

"No! Tell me, what can be done to save my kingdom?"

"Why, a deal with me, of course!"

Belle looked at him skeptically. "What deal?"

Gold twirled his cane again, smiling nastily at her from under the broad hood of his cape. "If you can guess my name, I shall save your kingdom. However if you cannot say my name, then the price to save your kingdom is that babe you hold so dear."

The children gasped, and Belle had reached to drop the main curtain so the backdrop could be changed, and then she hurried off the stage so that Gold could recite Rumplestiltskin's short monologue lamenting his loneliness.

Gold took his chair and began to recite, "Woe is me! I am Rumplestiltskin, master of magic - magic can do many things, but it cannot make a friend for me. Someone to talk to, to laugh with! There is no one, I am alone in this world while the royalty and townsfolk alike have friend and family to hold them close. No matter. I shall take the princess's baby and have a friend of my very own, a friend for life!"

Unbeknownst to the cackling Rumplestilskin, the princess had followed him to his cave and eavesdropped on him. She knew what troubled him, and moved to extend her hand in friendship.

"Rumplestiltskin."

Gold hurriedly stood from his chair to face Belle. "You followed me! You said my name! Fine, then, you tricked me without magic and your kingdom shall be safe. Go now, be gone!"

The princess, while sweet of face and tender of heart, had a spine of steel and did not back down from the hissing demon. "No, Rumplestiltskin, I will not go. I know you are lonely, and perhaps that is why you act in cruelty before courtesy. You forgot kindness in all your lonely days. No more of that, come with me! I would have you join me in the castle."

"You would have me in with your people?"

"Yes. Not just to save the kingdom and not just for your magic - it is because a thing must be loved before it can learn to love again. Please, try again, with me."

Here Belle extended her hand out to him, the offer clear to the audience. Rumplestiltskin reached to take her hand into his, speechless for the first time in the course of the play.

Again, the curtain fell over them and the backdrop shifted for the last time, to the colorful castle interior. The ending scene showed the princess and Rumplestilskin standing side by side, the babe set between them in a semblance of family.

Belle took Mr. Gold's hand and they bowed to the applause of over fifty adults and twice as many excited children. The final curtain fell, and Belle wasted no time in pulling off the costume gown and rushing out to find Sydney so she could give her comments on the article he would include in the next issue of The Daily Mirror.

Feeling an ache in his leg, Gold took his time in descending the stage, proud of Miss French's accomplishment but in no hurry to attempt the stairs or the crowd.

_Let her have her moment_.

Belle gulped at a water bottle, trying to cool off. She was tired, she was sweating, she was sure her throat would be sore in the morning - and she felt amazing! More people than she'd anticipated had shown up for the play, and she was sure she could thank Mary Margaret for that. Likely the teacher had promised a few extra credit points to those students who attended.

Mary was standing near the side of the stage, and waved to Belle, clearly proud of her. Ruby, Ariel, Marcus, Jasmine and Shane were scattered throughout the library as well, big smiles on their faces.

It had been a success, and Belle felt like she could fly.

She spoke to Sydney, whose own daughter had been smiling all throughout the performance. He assured her of a positive article in the paper, thanking her for the effort in opening the library and making it more than a place of books, but a place of community.

Belle saw him off, thanking him again for the write-up. She turned, looking for Mr. Gold.

_Where is my co-star...?_

She wanted to bring him forward, reintroduce him not as landlord and dealer, but as her friend.

Belle saw the man out of the corner of her eye, his suit as black as the costume cape he'd worn as Rumplestiltskin. But before she could step over to him, Belle saw their mayor approach Mr. Gold and she braced for the library to erupt into yet another of their heated arguments.

Instead, though...Regina was smiling with him, briefly they even held hands. They stood so close, their voices low as he said something that had them both laughing. It was the happiest she'd ever seen Mr. Gold outside of her company and a wave of something like jealousy swept over her.

Yesterday they had spent fifteen straight minutes insulting each other while Belle had hidden in the back room of the shop, yet now they were together like the dearest of friends. What had changed between tonight and the day before?

Mr. Gold's smile grew even warmer as young Henry came up to them, and he playfully ruffled the boy's hair. Regina said something and they all broke into a new round of quieted laughter. Belle noticed that Henry stayed close to Mr. Gold's side.

They looked like a family.

"Belle, you can't have Mr. Gold here again."

Belle broke her attention away from the man in question to find Rachael Carter and three other parents, all of them wearing expressions ranging from concerned to genuinely upset.

"Sorry, what?"

"It's nothing against you." Rachael said, trying to reassure her. "Whatever _that man_ did to make you include him in this, whatever game he's playing just to get under the mayor's skin...but you have to know that if he's a part of this then fewer and fewer people are going to show up until the whole place is empty."

Belle raised her brows. "Why?"

"Why?" Weston Bule, a father of triplet girls jokingly referred to was the weird sisters stepped to her. "He raised the rent at EastGate for a start!"

Belle rolled her eyes. She knew all about the rent hike. She'd been hidden behind the shop curtain while Gold had had to explain to several irate tenants that the rent increase had come from the renovations on the building after he'd bought it from the previous owner who'd let it go neglected for years.

Now, though...

No one could expect to pay the same rent rate on an upgraded apartment, not to mention that just such a provision had been in the fine print of every single lease agreement signed by the occupants. An irritating reality, but completely legal and in the tenants' best interest.

Deborah Cole crossed her arms. "He commandeered my husband's tow truck when he ran late on his payments!"

Belle held her tongue, sure she'd snap off an insult in the face of that admission.

"Gold refused to back my tourist venture," Darren cut in. "He said I needed a better plan, when really we know it's just because he hates my family."

Yes, and the fact that Darren Nigel was a high school drop out with heavy debts and no mind for business had nothing to do with it, Belle was sure.

"I really don't think-"

Rachael, clearly the ringleader of this lynch mob, glared at Belle. "Just make it clear to him, Belle. I have enough stress in my life because of that man, I'll be damned if I bring my kids anywhere near him. If you want to keep this program, then Gold has to go."

Belle glared right back at them all, each one of them just as petty as the rest of the town when it came to Mr. Gold, blaming him for their own misfortunes. He was just trying to practice good business and here they were, with nothing but excuses on their side.

She had been right about Mr. Gold. She knew it.

But being right about her friend wouldn't protect her program.

Rachael Carter was head of the PTA. It wouldn't take much to rally her sheep troops and deter them away from the live readings. Many of the other parents in the audience had been unhappy to see Mr. Gold's involvement, Rachael was simply the one brave enough to challenge Belle's casting.

Without an audience, her program could be over before it began. She couldn't let that happen.

Belle turned her back on the group and sought Mr. Gold. Her eyes fell on him, he and the mayor being the only two clad entirely in fine black clothing, he in his suit and she in a chic dress. This was not the best moment for it, but Belle couldn't help admiring the woman for her style.

The mayor was readying to leave, her purse secured over her shoulder and her keys in hand. She and Mr. Gold had finished whatever discussion they'd started, though Henry seemed reluctant to part from the man. Mr. Gold had a hand on the boy's shoulder, kneeling to his eye level. As Belle came closer she could pick up the last piece of their conversation.

"-to be good for your mother."

Henry nodded at his instruction. "I will, Mr. Gold. Promise."

"Good lad. On, now, off with you both." Gold gave the boy a nudge toward his mother, waving to them fondly. Regina shared a last look with Gold before she guided her son toward the library's exit.

Belle cleared her throat. "Mr. Gold."

He turned around, smiling anew. "Ah, Miss French. This wasn't half the trial I thought it'd be. This was actually fun, throwing back to a theater class I took in early university."

"Mr. Gold-"

"Will it be the same time next week, then?"

Belle swallowed, wishing he had hated tonight, wishing he didn't look so damn happy.

_This program has to go on._

"I'm afraid there won't be a next time."

Gold's face fell into confusion. "You're stopping the plays?"

"No. I just...most of the parents won't bring their children back if you're a part of them." Belle felt dread claw through her as she said the words. To protect her program, she had to shun her friend. Inside, the woman was roaring against how unfair life could be here in Storybrooke.

"Ah." Understanding took hold in his eyes. "So you're not stopping the plays, you're just stopping them with me."

"Please, it's not my choice, but so many of the parents will refuse to let their children come back if you read again."

Gold understood the position that Belle was in; if the library lost its patronage then it's doors would close, all of the books and equipment would be sold off and dispersed, and the floor space itself would be absorbed into the community center.

Belle's dream would end. Even before he knew her, he had played a part in bringing this place to life. He would protect it for her, even if it called for his dismissal.

Really, he needed to put an end to this new connection he had with her. She was a distraction, a bright, burdensome little pleasure that had no place in his life.

"I recall warning you that something like this would happen."

The cold reminder lanced through her. "I know you did." Belle shook her head, so angry at being forced into this position. "I just didn't think...I wanted to prove they've been wrong about you."

"I also recall warning you I have my reputation for a reason."

A dark look came over Gold's face as he glanced over to a group of parents who were hovering near the door, their discreet glances toward Belle telling him all he needed to know.

"I just wanted them to see you like I see you." The words were a feeble defense, but Belle knew he was right. This had been a disaster in the making, she never should have asked him for this.

Now the town was sure to shun him anew and it was her fault. She did this.

"I understand. If given enough time I fear you'll come to see me as they do instead." Gold gave her an odd little smile. It was almost sad. "It was a noble effort, Miss French. One I won't forget."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else she could say.

He reached to her, touching her arm. Belle wished he would hold her hand the way he'd held the mayor's. "No. Save your sorry. It was so good of you to try. I would rather you not lose any ground here, so I'll just say good night."

Belle watched unhappily as Mr. Gold turned, heading toward the library doors.

The man stepped out into the night, alone and avoided.


	7. Truth

Clearing his throat and wincing for what must have been the tenth time that morning, Mr. Gold moved about his shop as quick as he could. The exercise his voice had gotten the night before had done his throat no favors. He hadn't played with his voice in years, not since his own nightly performances, years ago now. The high-pitched trilling, speaking his neglected Gaelic, the hissing and growling...it had all made for a sore throat that only a gallon of honeyed tea could soothe.

Added to that, his leg had kept him restless through the night. Yes, his leg, not the sting of Miss French's dismissal of him from her latest pet project at the library. No. Of course not. Well, maybe. But not really.

Damn it.

Yes, he had warned her that their audience would be unhappy with his involvement, but halfway through their performance he had hoped to be proven wrong. That perhaps they might...but, no. He'd no sooner finished seeing off Regina and Henry for the night before Miss French approached him and brought a heavy dose of reality with her.

It wasn't her fault. The woman had recruited him because she could not read for the male role and for the mystery his accent could add to her Rumplestiltskin. He had agreed because it would make her happy, and she had been right until the bitter gaggle came and bullied her into barring him.

Gold doubted anyone would fault their performance, but it clearly hadn't been enough. The people of Storybrooke would keep him in the role he fit best, as landlord, lawyer and dealer.

So, it was back to business.

Gold clicked his teeth together and looked over the ledger he kept for his rental properties. It was collection day and he couldn't wait to hear the excuses this time around.

He stretched his leg and decided the collections could wait until well after lunch.

Once the shop was dusted and inventoried, after all of his own bills were paid and his annual physical scheduled, he settled in to nosh on lunch and skim over the The Daily Mirror - a bit pointless, since he knew nearly all that went on in town, but it was a comforting Sunday routine.

_Live Reading Brings Fairy Tales To Life_

_The newly opened Storybrooke Library is set to host small live action performances of classic stories for the children of the town. The first live performance was hosted this past Saturday night by librarians Amy Mullins and Belle French, with French having performed an original script written for..._

Gold set the paper aside after finding no mention of his name. Good. Sydney had done as he'd asked. His involvement had been left off the record, and so would fade from the memory of the town. In time the people would forget but Belle never would.

He was satisfied with that.

Let Rachael Carter and her sheep enjoy this petulant victory over him, that he wasn't to read for the children again. True, taking on the mantle of Rumplestilskin had been more fun than he'd expected, but it was no great loss. He had plenty of other pleasantries to distract him.

Causing a bit of expensive bad luck against Mrs. Carter, for one. Introducing a bag of sugar cubes into the gas tank of her new car would make a nice start.

_Mmm, but it's a Mercedes, and I'd hate to mistreat something so beautiful. And speaking of beauty..._

Gold opened a pouch and spread the gemstones within over the counter before him. They were rough cuts, unpolished. To the untrained eye this was just a scatter of colorful pebbles, but Gold knew what he had.

A few blue topaz, a handful of citrine and rubies, three emeralds, a sapphire, a diamond. All of them small, but with the right care they would outshine stones twice their size.

He had plans for the gems. Some would find their way into restored artifacts, while others-

"Mr. Gold?"

Gold hurriedly swept the stones back into the pouch and then tucked it under the counter just as Miss French stepped across the threshold. The shop wasn't open to customers on Sundays but she must've seen him from outside.

He looked her over as she came closer. A wrap dress of pale pink hugged her petite frame, a perfect match to the gloss slicked over her lips. At once his shop was brighter for her presence, but no smile graced her face. Belle came to stand before him, her expression too earnest for a Sunday morning.

He only ever wanted to see her as her usual bubbly self. Seeing how upset she had been the night before had been more than enough.

"Miss French."

She rested her hands on the counter. "I came to see if you were all right."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Hmm?"

"After last night." She went on. "I wanted to apologize again, and see if...if _we_ were all right."

Gold understood, then. She thought he was upset with her. Miss French wasn't to blame...of course, it might have been nice to know she'd defended him, but he knew that hadn't been the case.

She'd done as she was told without a word of protest.

He shrugged, "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine. Last night was my fault. I should have told them no, that I could have who I wanted-"

"And let them drive away your audience, ending the program and soon after, the library? Even I can say that I am too high a price just to show up the PTA." Gold shook his head, "I put too much into seeing the project greenlit to let it close within the year."

Belle furrowed her brow at that. "What do you mean?"

"Who do you think got the project approved? Where did you think the sudden funding came from?"

Mr. Gold had been content to let everyone think that the library and community center had been brought to fruition thanks to the city council and public donations, but there was no harm in telling her now. Some truth might be good for them both.

For her part, Belle felt shell-shocked. The zoning permits, renovation of the building, the new construction, the labor and equipment all totaled over half a million dollars, and those were just the base costs. She knew that there had to be hundreds of other expenses that added to the total. "Why would you do that?"

Gold shrugged. "If I'm being honest, I did it to annoy Regina."

"You hate her that much?"

"_Hate_ Regina?" Mr. Gold shook his head. "No, never that."

"But then why-?"

"My reasons are exactly that." He cut her off, his voice soft but not without an undercurrent of steel. The man was warning her as gently as he could. Belle had to remember that while she considered him her friend, Mr. Gold was still an intensely private man. It might have cost him just to reveal that much to her.

"I'm sorry." She said, and she was sorry. She didn't want to make him more uncomfortable than she already had.

"Don't apologize to me, Miss French. I don't need you to remind me of how the people here can be. You think I would blame you? No, you were forced into the position of choosing, I could see that. I knew it would happen before you did."

"Mr. Gold-"

But he was done discussing this, his position in the town, the part he'd played in the library's opening, his relationship to their mayor, all of it. He placed Belle above all others, but he couldn't be with her now. He needed space, to be alone in his element.

"I have rents to collect, Miss French."

It was a delicate dismissal, the reminder of the business he had for the day. Belle understood, as she had her own work to be getting on with, but she had to know, "Are we friends again?"

Mr. Gold raised a brow and reached across the counter and laid his hand over hers as she had done to him so many times in their brief past. "Miss French, I wasn't aware we'd ever stopped."

Belle smiled, relief clear in her eyes. She rolled her hand beneath his and laced their fingers. They looked at each other in silence, a fond moment, but Gold could not let this go on.

"Off you go now, girl. I have people to shake down and cheat, families to ruin. And you have another script to write and another co-star to find."

Belle nodded as he released her hand so that he could come around the counter and lead her to the shop door. "I do. I'm thinking Cinderella. Ashley said she might help."

"Ashley Boyd?" He asked. Belle nodded again and he pictured the petite blonde in a glittery blue costume dress and tiara. "She does have a likeness to the cartoon."

"I thought so too."

Belle opened the door, ready to leave, but then stopped on the threshold and turned back to him. "Mr. Gold, I never thanked you for coming to perform with me." He said nothing, so she went on, "Thank you. Your performance was wonderful, I think everyone could agree on that. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Then perhaps we must work to know each other better, Miss French. And thank you. It was more fun than I'd expected it would be, though all that voice work has cost me today."

Belle nodded. "I'm right there with you, I ate a bag of cherry Halls when I woke up this morning. I'll let you get back to your day, Mr. Gold. Goodbye."

He nodded, somehow feeling more settled after her visit. "Good day, Miss French."

* * *

><p>Belle left Mr. Gold's shop feeling only a little better for having spoken to him and apologized; it still hung over her, how easily she'd given in to the vague threats of a handful of his bitter clients. She hadn't slept all night, her mind spinning off a hundred other ways that she could have handled the situation, from politely insisting that she would cast her plays as she saw fit all the way to a screaming defense of her friend.<p>

Well, it was too late to change things now. She couldn't take back what she had done, and even if she ignored the town censure and invited him back, Mr. Gold would refuse.

Pity, that. He'd been brilliant on her little stage, surprising everyone with the life he'd given to the role.

At least Mr. Gold had eased her mind somewhat, promising he wasn't upset with her for dismissing him. He'd seemed as aloof as ever, playing at indifference, but she'd seen the energy in him the night before during their performance, and she'd seen the true disappointment and the spark of anger in his eyes when she'd dismissed him.

Belle kicked a rock out of her way as she walked down a few blocks, heading toward Game of Thorns to pick up the evening shift. She needed the money since she was still only part-time at the library, and she didn't mind the bought of sneezing she was always in for when she took to working with flowers.

"Hey Belle, wait up!"

She turned around and felt her pulse quicken when she saw Shane approach. She had known him since high school, he had only grown more handsome over the years, more charismatic. Both she and Ruby had briefly dated him and he remained close to them both, still a ladies man at heart despite the changes he'd gone through over the years.

"Shane, what're you doing?"

He fell into step with her, offering his arm and smiling when Belle put her hand into the crook of his elbow. It was too easy to mistake them for a couple, particularly as he wore a pale pink dress shirt beneath his charcoal suit, a near perfect match to her dress. "Are you working the flower shop any time soon?"

"Yes, I'm actually heading up there now."

"Good. I need to make an order."

Belle raised a brow. It was a rare thing that she would make a sale before the start of a shift. "Big or small?"

"Small, sorry. I just need a handful of small bouquets for my place." He said. His place was actually a small jewelry store he'd opened a few years ago, and he liked to decorate it with seasonal flowers. It was no secret that the florist shop was struggling; Belle suspected that he only placed his orders there to help the shop, to help her.

"What were you thinking?"

"I don't know, maybe carnations or daisies? Something bright always looks nice in the store."

Belle stepped into the shop and greeted Alan, one of the three other employees of Game of Thorns. Off his frustrated look to her, she already knew that her father had either screwed something up or not shown up for work at all.

These days neither option would surprise her.

Shane stepped in behind her. "Well, we have plenty of pink, yellow and white daisies." She told him, checking the inventory book.

A few bouquets of daisies wasn't much of a sale but every bit count. The shop had been on the decline for years and Belle had picked up a few pearls of wisdom from her time with Mr. Gold, the first and foremost being that no small company had ever done so well that it could afford to turn away business.

Shane was both a regular customer and very close to her, she couldn't refuse him even though his small orders were almost more trouble than they were worth.

"I'll do three bouquets with a mix of colors. Send me the invoice?" He asked, hurriedly checking his watch.

Belle smiled, taking in the picture he made. A handsome devil, a charismatic flirt and a stable, employed man she had a history with. She couldn't help thinking of him sometimes, of how things might have been different. But that was then, when they'd barely been out of their teens - they were both adults now, and everything had changed.

"I'll have them delivered tomorrow morning."

Shane reached across the counter and took her hand into both of his. "Belle, you are the best." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to get back to the store. Thank you."

Blushing enough to match her dress, Belle waved as he began to move toward the door. "No problem. I'll catch you later."

"Want to grab lunch later this week?" He asked once he reached the door.

"You buying?" She asked, raising a brow.

He scowled in mock offense. "What do you take me for? Of course I'll pay, so long as you only order table crackers and half a cup of lukewarm tap water."

"Careful, you might spoil me."

Shane flashed her a smile. "Later, babe."

Belle waved him off and refocused herself, entering his order and then putting an apron on over her dress so she could get on with her shift.

* * *

><p>"I don't have your money, Gold."<p>

Mr. Gold grit his teeth at the snarled words, and wondered again why he put up with this damn town. He could well afford to start over in another place, but the albatross chained around his neck kept him anchored to Storybrooke. It seemed his eternal punishment was to spend the rest of his days forced to deal with surly, unreliable clients.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, wanting to keep his temper this month, but it was a damn hard struggle. Roger June could rival Gold in his bad attitude and frightening reputation, though June was better known for his violence than his cunning. He was little more than a thug, really, but he was a thug that had signed a contract.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Gold said evenly. "However when you signed your lease you signed your understanding of the penalties for repeated nonpayment."

June scowled at Gold, clenching his fingers into two meaty fists that could take the other man apart. He thought about it every time Gold came around to collect the rent, whether he had the money or not. He was bigger than Gold, stronger, not to mention about twenty years younger and, he was willing to bet, it wouldn't be any trouble to take him out.

"Look, work's been slow. The economy, right? I can't be the only one who needs a break on the rent."

"Yes, the economy. Interesting how the economy prevents you from paying your bills but it didn't prevent you from gambling at The Rabbit Hole the other night." Gold remarked, growing bored with these excuses. He was sick of it, these people who came to him, so desperate, but who then reneged on their deal when he came for what he was owed.

"Hey, what I do with my money-"

"What money are you referring to, exactly? The money you still owe me on the loan you needed to fix up your truck or the money you've owed for the rent on this flat since the renovation? Because it all concerns me, Mr. June." Gold's voice had grown cold in listing out the man's debts to him.

"I told you work was slowing down. If you just give me more time I know I can pay it all back." June reasoned. Yes, the work at the docks was slow, but he had a side venture that could pay out if he got creative with the product.

"You're out of time, Mr. June." Gold hissed. "I've been as lenient as I can but the contracts on your loan and lease were clear."

"No! You can't!"

"I can. I am well within my rights to evict."

"You old bastard!" June lunged forward, but Gold was ready. It was not often that he was pushed to this, but he had long ago learned the need for self-defense. Anyone in his position would have been smart to learn how to deal with these kinds of people in the only language they could understand - force.

Gold twisted out of the larger man's reach and struck the back of his head with the handle of his cane. Aside from the support he needed for his injured leg, the cane served as a surprise weapon when he needed it.

June fell on the ground and rolled to get back up, but Gold was there, pinning him to the ground with the cane at his throat.

"I don't mind telling you that I've had my fill of you people, all of you, so desperate and so careless that no bank will touch you, coming into my shop to beg for loans and favors and not one of you ever bothers to read the fine print or even grasp the concept of repayment." Gold pressed his cane against him just that much harder, relishing the other man's pain. "Now, I will get what you owe me, one way or another."

"I told you I don't have the money!" June shouted at him.

"Yes, and we both know who does, don't we?"

June's eyes widened a fraction, telling Gold without words just who June had lost all his money to. "He cheated me out of-"

"Don't blame it on him." Gold interrupted. "You chose to gamble away the rent."

"Look, I don't have the money, but...but, maybe something else?" June suggested, grasping at ideas.

Gold raised a brow. Just what did this idiot think he would accept in place of money?

"What?"

"Oxy." June struggled to say. "I have oxy."

"You're honestly trying to offer me drugs?" At once, he understood the man's line of thinking in the deal - he would offer the painkillers in the hopes that Gold would become addicted, and thus come to depend on June as a source. He thought to turn the tables with a bottle of pills.

No. Gold had been down that road once before and he'd fought his way back to sanity, but he shook off those memories of desperation, refocusing on his struggling client.

Mr. Gold said nothing, sure his expression perfectly conveyed his distaste.

June made another grasp at the air. "One of the girls from the Rabbit Hole, or that waitress Ruby, you know her. I've been seeing her, she could settle things between us."

Gold barked out a laugh, surprising himself. "You really are a piece of work." He brought his foot down hard on June's hand, breaking his thumb. "In one week, I'm coming for my money. All of it. And you won't see Miss Lucas again."

Tears streaming down his face, June nodded, speaking through clenched teeth. "All right."

"No. You won't see Miss Lucas again. Say it."

"I won't see her again. I'll call her tonight and break things off."

"Yes, you do that and be sure to tell her why." Gold turned to the door. "One week. If you don't have everything you owe me by then, you're done. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mr. Gold."

Gold stepped out of June's apartment and then looked down at his list, sighing heavily.

There were seven more tenants to visit that day.

* * *

><p>Hours later Gold unlocked his front door and stepped inside, sighing lightly as he locked the door behind him. Crossing the lower level of his house, he entered the kitchen and began preparing tea for one. Again.<p>

It was part of his evening tradition, a way to unwind. Tea with whatever he could throw together for his dinner, paired with a book or some mindless television.

He stared down at the stove, watching tiny bubbles form in the water, but then changed his mind, suddenly in the mood for something stronger. Gold killed the heat and poured the water down the sink, then made his way into the living room where he kept liquor and wine in a lovely glass cabinet.

There were only three days a year where he drank to get drunk, but the urge to do so was calling to him this night. He just wanted to forget for awhile, that was all, a short reprieve from this life he'd made for himself.

He poured a measure of whiskey over ice and settled back on his sofa with a content sigh, his thoughts moving on from the day's frustration to a figure worlds more pleasing, Miss French. The woman was never far from his thoughts, and he often called on the image of her face or a joke she'd told him when he needed to focus on something that could lift his mood.

It was happening more and more often, she was becoming as much a feature in his fevered daydreams as she was a welcome visitor to his shop in true life. What had started as the occasional pleasant exchange over books had somehow evolved into a genuine friendship heavy with flirtation, and he was self-aware enough to know he was already half in love with the charming woman.

She came to him in his fantasies as a lover, but when he would wake the realities separating them would come crashing in.

Gold was no idiot. Belle may flirt a bit with him but he'd seen her flirt with others before as well so he could not fool himself into thinking that she treated him with any unique care. She was a naturally affectionate woman, and so witty. Soon enough she would want to settle down, and some lucky bastard would snap her up and give her the world if he knew what was good for him.

He could lie to himself and say that it was enough to know she liked him when so many others did not. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough - but it was already more than he'd expected. In Miss French he had a friend, a bright funny friend who strode into his shop wearing killer heels and a smile that could slay his darkest days.

Still.

Mr. Gold wanted more than her grins and the light touches of her hand, and he could offer her so much more than just the chance to see the artifacts in his shop while she scraped by on half a living. Gold looked to the empty walls surrounding him, entertaining the idea of having Belle over to the house.

To have her in his home, to have her to himself without having to rush their talks or keep their connection a secret. Now that was a thought. He could picture her there with him, so bright and bubbly, she was champagne come to life.

Gold snorted.

It would be a lovely thing to have her visit but he would only be left wanting more from her after she left. He refused to let his thoughts linger on the idea. He could allow for her visits but feared becoming over eager and somehow driving her away far more than he feared her rejecting the invitation.

He needed to stop this.

Fantasizing about one of the only people in Storybrooke that he could call his friend would get him nowhere but further into frustration, and it wasn't fair to her. Belle deserved better than what he truly was, she deserved the man she believed him to be.

That thought always lifted his despondent moods. Despite the rumors and the true warnings, Belle had insisted in pursuing their friendship. With her he found himself as happy as he'd been in an age. He didn't have to make an effort when he was with her, there was no need to flex his power or put on the front meant to intimidate.

He wasn't sure if Belle was even capable of being intimidated. She was confident in all things.

He could joke with her, show off what little talents he had, and even better, Belle enjoyed their time together. The thought hit him that Belle could have some feelings for him, but he wouldn't hang much on that.

No matter.

Mr. Gold could do what he pleased within the confines of his darker imaginings, but there were lines never to be crossed in the real world.

* * *

><p>Belle totaled out the register and locked up the flower shop, sighing lightly as she adjusted the straps of her purse over her shoulder. It had been a slow day, slower than usual and she had been grateful to get out of the confining space. The flowers had already upset her allergies, sending her on a sneezing marathon that had only worsened her sore throat.<p>

No texts were waiting on her cell when she checked, and she weighed the thought of dropping back in on Mr. Gold'd shop, but decided against it. Belle didn't want to pester him, and she didn't want to spend any money so she decided against going to Granny's for dinner. She shrugged to herself as she walked down the street, heading toward her apartment.

Belle caught a glimpse of Mr. Gold locking up shop for the day, but she only waved to him from across the street rather than stop to talk. She didn't want to wear out her welcome with him, and God forbid she talk to her friend in this town, there were eyes everywhere and tongues eager to wag. One public conversation between them could become some dramatic scandal by the next morning.

The woman kept walking, making her way to her apartment building's elevator and then on through her door. Stepping inside, she looked about the space, sighing lightly. Her place was a wreck, she'd let herself get sloppy the last few days. There were dishes in the sink, folded laundry on the card table, dirty clothes strewn about the floor of her bedroom where her bed was unmade.

_Messy bed, messy head._

No small wonder, her apartment was a reflection of her life at the moment.

Belle set her purse down and flopped into the soft chair she kept near the large window. Her stomach grumbled, she would put together something to eat in a bit - either a sandwich or a bowl of granola cereal, something light. She wasn't in the mood to cook.

The flower shop was not turning the profits she'd hoped for, even after the Spring Fling. That was a worry. She knew her father's finances better than he did - which wasn't saying much. He barely took notice of the business anymore, or of anything, really. If he fell behind on any payments, Mr. Gold was sure to take notice and then take action.

Belle loathed the thought of meeting her friend on financial terms, it would change everything between them. She didn't want to be in that position, to have to outline the finances with him, to pare down everything they were into financial legalese and figures on a spreadsheet.

No!

No, she had to keep the shop afloat to avoid its foreclosure and any confrontation with Mr. Gold. She would think of something.

Belle rose out of the chair and made a quick dinner of soup and crackers, sending out a mass text to her friends asking if they knew of any spare work to be done about town. She could use the money from her work at the library to pay on her own bills, and put whatever wages earned from her side work into the florist shop.

Her plan would stretch her budget very tight...but if she could keep her position at the library and keep Game of Thorns afloat it would be well worth it.

Belle rubbed a hand over her face. She could always start charging Mr. Gold for her personal assistance into his antique research, but she dismissed the thought with a snort. If anything, he should be charging her for all the pieces he'd allowed her to see over the past few months.

A wicked whisper tickled the back of her mind about Mr. Gold.

He was a rich man, by far the wealthiest man in Storybrooke. He might be open to a loan agreement, a deal...or even a favor of money.

Belle cut off all thoughts of going to to him. She couldn't do that. There would be no way to keep their friendship with thousands of dollars between them. Mr. Gold never socialized with his clients, and to go to him for money after insisting on their friendship just smacked of taking advantage. She knew he would see it that way, no matter that her fondness for him was genuine.

But even more than that, she couldn't stomach the thought of him looking into the finances. He would have questions leading into shaded family history, and then her own past. No, no. Not a cent could cross between them at the risk of the connection she'd come to cherish.

Oh, and how she did cherish her time with that man. Much more than she should, she knew. Belle smiled to herself, just thinking of him. He enjoyed their time together though he was reluctant to admit any kind of tender feeling toward her. She understood that much about him, he had his reputation to maintain against anyone who might take advantage of a perceived weakness. To view friendship as a weakness seemed to make for a lonely life, but Mr. Gold seemed to prefer things that way.

He was a strange man, but hers in a way.

She banished that thought, knowing it could lead her nowhere but into disappointment.

Her cell chirped with a text alert.

Belle smiled. It seemed she had work to do.


	8. Summer Ends

**Author's Note: a touch of smut, a bit of business, and a cliffhanger...please read, review and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Belle stared down at her tub, freshly cleaned just days before and now filled with steaming water. She rarely bathed, but when she had a free day she couldn't resist the luxury. It cost her nothing and eased her stress; a long bath was time well spent.<p>

She was too old for bubbles, instead adding a bit of essential oil she'd filched from Jasmine the last time their gaggle of friends had been over to her apartment.

Vanilla musk rose to mingle with the steam in the air, the scent just a touch too strong. She cracked open the window and then let down the blinds. Belle smiled to herself. It wouldn't do to give anyone a free show, she'd made that mistake when she'd first moved in, not realizing how clear the view was from the outside.

Content, Belle shrugged out of her robe and hung it on the back of the door before she eased into the heat. She hissed in pleasure as her skin pebbled from head to toe, and she shifted to recline back against the edge of the tub.

She didn't particularly care for this apartment, really she'd only chosen it because the price had been right. But she did like the tub. It wasn't one of the grand claw-foots lifted from romance novels, but it was larger than anyone would have expected for a flat this size.

Eyes roaming the blank walls surrounding her, Belle tried to relax her overtaxed mind. The past several weeks had completely exhausted her. Between her time at the library along with its extra programs, her volunteer shifts at Game of Thorns and all of the spare work she'd managed to pick up about town, Belle was _done_.

Money was still tight, but there was no way she could maintain that hectic of a schedule. Belle had to ease up on herself or she would lose her mind. Without an activity to drive her, the woman finally had a day to herself and she was damned if she was going to ruin it by dealing with the outside world.

_Hell no_.

Her plan was to enjoy her bath until the water cooled, then attend to her skin, eyebrows and toenails, and after that she wanted to lose herself in her Netflix account while snacking through her kitchen.

To call it a lazy day would be to murder it with understatement, but Belle held no shame. She was a housecat at heart; given this opportunity, she wouldn't spend the time any other way.

Belle paused at that, her thoughts immediately turning to Mr. Gold.

She hadn't seen him in weeks, given her packed schedule. All they'd had were hurried greetings on the street when she'd run into him while rushing from one shift to another. The man understood, always wishing her well, and Belle missed him.

She missed him coming into the library, she missed visiting him in his pawn shop. She missed their talks, their banter, the surprising ease she'd found with him as a companion.

It often crossed her mind, the question of what he thought of her. Belle openly admired the man, adored him, truly, but Mr. Gold was always played at being aloof. It was difficult to say with certainty where he stood on anything.

_What would he do, if he was here with me, right now?_

Belle smiled wickedly to herself, shifting in the tub and closing her eyes. She summoned him in her mind, bringing his image forth. All at once, the man was there. Sitting on the vanity stool beside the bathtub, wearing his black suit paired with the dark red shirt and tie she liked on him best. He was leaning forward, staring at her, his cane nowhere in sight.

Loving this, finally having the time and privacy, the _freedom_ to indulge her darker thoughts, Belle wouldn't let the opportunity slip away.

_I'm yours, Mr. Gold..._

It was a favorite fantasy of hers, to submit to him. In their brief friendship, Belle had found herself thinking of him in this way several times. He had thundered his way into her thoughts, trampling over the celebrities and invented heroes she used in her fantasies, supplanting every other man and wrapping himself around her mind like a golden snake.

Belle couldn't stop herself, Mr. Gold was unique to every other man she'd met in town. He was always so confident, so clever, so formal. He was a man in a position of power, and handsome in a way she'd never considered before. He indulged and encouraged her curiosity, invited her to explore his treasures, he was her friend...and she couldn't help wondering if they could ever be _more_.

Sometimes Belle imagined seducing him in the stacks of the library, inviting him to take her on a pile of open books. Other times, she thought of him ravishing her in the back room of the pawn shop, perhaps binding her hands with his own tie or forcing her to bend over the workbench so that he could have her from behind.

But she was in the tub now, and Mr. Gold was sitting just to her left, waiting.

_"What would you have me do, Miss French?"_

A shiver crawled over her, tightening her skin anew once she summoned his voice. She shifted again, parting her legs and palming her left breast, imagining that he had reached for her in his impatience to satisfy her need.

_"Call me Belle. You never call me Belle."_

It wasn't her hand there any longer, it was his. He stroked her breast, cupped it, let her fill his palm. The edge of his thumb grazed over her nipple, delighting at the attention.

_"Beautiful, Belle."_

_"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"_

_"Oh, yes. I adore you, Belle. You're my Cleopatra, remember? How could I resist you?"_

_"You should act on it, Mr. Gold."_

_"I will. My precious Belle. You are beautiful__, but so lonely."_

Belle did this sometimes as well, changing him from a figure of pure sexual fantasy into one of comfort. He was her closest friend and most ardent lover here, a far cry from the remote man she knew in real life.

_"I am lonely, but not all the time."_

_"You wear a brave mask, my dear. Your friends all love you, but they can't understand. It's all right to be angry. I know it hasn't been easy for you."_

His fingertip grazed her nipple again, and Belle shivered happily.

_"That feels good. And you're right, it hasn't been easy in the past but everything is going so well this year. The library-"_

_"You mean the library I built for you, my sweet?"_ Belle reminded herself.

_"You didn't build it for me, you did it for some power play against the mayor."_

_"Ah, Regina. Now there's a _real_ woman."_

Belle frowned. She couldn't let her jealousy infect her time here. The water wouldn't stay hot all day.

Mr. Gold returned to her mind, this time in the tub with her, sitting so that her back was resting against his naked chest, one of his hands again on her breast, the other resting below the surface of the water, on her smooth inner thigh.

_"Mr. Gold, why can't it be like this in real life?"_

"_Hmm?_" His fingertips had taken to rolling her nipple, his other hand now lightly stroking between her legs.

_"You know what I mean."_ Belle stroked herself further, _"What if we said 'to hell with the town' and just did what we wanted? We could meet anywhere, do anything we chose. You pretend you don't care about anything, but I know you like me."_

_"No. Not like. Liking is for children - I adore you, Belle. My beautiful Belle. Open for me, love."_ He commanded her, his voice growing deep.

Belle complied, dipping a finger within herself. _"It could be like this, Mr. Gold. You're lonely too."_

_"Not when I'm with you. You're so beautiful, so clever, you're perfect. Let me be good to you, let me take you away from all this."_

Mr. Gold's fingers played between her legs, stroking faster and dipping within her body, bringing her closer to the edge.

_"Tell me_," Belle demanded of him.

Her fantasy was only too eager to comply, listing out her every secreted wish. _"We'll go away together, I'll take you back to Scotland with me and then we'll go to Paris and Berlin, to Greece and Spain. I'll give you everything you could want, anything to make you happy. Tell me, what do you want, Belle?"_

_"You."_

Writhing in the water, Belle bit her lip, stifling a moan as the soft climax rolled through her. She panted, opening her eyes. She was alone in the bathroom, the water cooling all around her. She took several deeps breaths, frustrated anew now.

Her pulse settled and her mind dispelled the fantasy of Mr. Gold, her pleasure slave and confidant.

Belle sighed.

It was unfair of her to think of Mr. Gold this way, using him as a fantasy, but since the first night he had crossed her mind, she had been unable to help herself. Besides, her heated imagination was harmless; Mr. Gold might think of her in the same way on occasion, who could say for sure?

Belle stepped out of the tub and drew on her robe, catching her flushed reflection in the mirror.

_Lonely girl_.

Lonely girl, that's what her mother called her, years ago.

Yes, she was lonely sometimes. It made for a lonely life when she could barely afford to leave her apartment. It had been lonely growing up the way she had, it was lonely rushing from job to job with barely anything to show for it and it was lonely now, to have someone in her life she couldn't be free with in her affection.

Belle only held a trace of resentment against her friends for how easily some things had seemed to come their way. Ruby, who had her pick of any man in the room, and Ariel, whose salon pulled in more money on a busy weekend than Belle could make in a month.

But it wasn't fair to resent anyone for little things like that; Belle had plenty to be thankful for, and despite her difficulties, she was happy with her life. The library was wonderful, a dream come true for her and already it was bringing the town closer together. She was lucky to have the income she did, she had a roof over her head, she had enough to eat, she had wonderful, loyal friends who loved her. Even if her situation with Mr. Gold was not ideal, they had found a way to make it work for them.

What more could she want? What more could she beg the world for?

With that truth in mind, Belle opened the door to let out the rest of the steam and drained the tub. The woman quickly lotioned herself, absently imagining Mr. Gold's hands massaging her skin. She gave herself a pedicure, painting her toenails a soft coral pink. She treated her face and attended to her eyebrows before throwing on a pair of pajamas to start her lazy day.

She'd scrolled through her Netflix account and chosen an old favorite, though a quarter of the way into the film she'd picked up a novel and started to read. The film became pleasant background noise to the events of her book, until the chirping of her cell phone interrupted.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." Jasmine greeted her.

Belle smiled. "What's going on?"

"Girls night?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Come on, I know you're not working tomorrow morning." Jasmine coaxed her.

"You're cutting into my laying around and doing nothing time."

Jasmine laughed at that. "Come on, Belle. It's been forever. Shane and Marcus are coming, they want to dance with you."

"You mean they want to make fun of my dancing."

What Belle had once told Mr. Gold about her dance skills had been true - she had none, and her flailing on the dance floor was legendary in her circle of friends.

"We all want to do that. Come on. Rabbit Hole, 8 o'clock. If you don't show up I'll break in and drag you out of your apartment."

Belle rolled her eyes. "You make a good argument. I'll be ready. I could use some time out."

"Great! I'll let everyone know you're coming."

Belle hung up and replaced her cell on its charger, leaving her book and turning off the movie. Yes, she'd planned on a nothing day, but doing nothing was accomplishing nothing. She shook her head, scrapping any further plans of laying around she'd had for the night.

She could not allow imagining Mr. Gold with her in the bathroom as she fondled herself to be the highlight of her day.

Belle frowned at the thought. _Pathetic_.

She tore through her closet, suddenly energetic, defiant against her earlier laziness. She needed to get outside of her own head for a time, to be with her friends, to have a few drinks and make a fool of herself on the dance floor.

Choosing an outfit, Belle slipped into the bathroom to do her makeup, looking forward to a night out for the first time in weeks.

* * *

><p>"You're in excellent health Mr. Gold."<p>

Gold nodded and moved off the examination table, drawing on his shirt and working up the line of buttons. He smirked at the doctor's words. "Bad news for Storybrooke, I think."

Dr. Carlton, his longtime personal physician, smiled at the joke. "I guess that depends on who you ask. How are things in Storybrooke?"

Gold had been prudent in choosing a doctor well outside his own city. Sunshire was an easy enough drive, and with little else on his day's agenda, he'd chosen to spend the day there. Storybrooke could be smothering in its way, so Sunshire often served as a much-needed change of scenery.

"Things there are as they have always been. For better and for worse." Gold said, then reaching for his suit jacket. "Most days are about the same. It feels stuck in time."

Dr. Carlton considered his patient's words. He had seen Mr. Gold for over fifteen years, and from what he knew of the man's past, he felt concerned enough to ask, "Mr. Gold, have you considered that it may not be the town trapped in time, but you?"

Gold closed his eyes for a moment before turning to face the doctor. "Not this again, please."

"You've rejected the idea of therapy the last few times I've suggested it. But if not a therapist, then how about something therapeutic? Perhaps a new hobby."

Gold shrugged. "I have hobbies."

"The antiquing, isn't that part of your business?"

"Yes, but it's still more like a hobby. It's less stressful than landlording, which has to be good for me."

"Yes. Avoid stress, eat healthy, and get some exercise outside of fighting, please." He gestured to the slight bruising on Gold's knuckles.

"I only fight when I'm attacked first. Sometimes it can't be helped. Better to fight back than just take a beating."

"That sage Scottish wisdom. I bet you throw glasses in bars." The doctor groused.

Gold laughed at that. "Not for a few years, now."

"Your stress levels are lighter than they were last visit." Dr. Carlton remarked as he looked over Mr. Gold's chart. "Has there been any significant change in your life since last year?"

Mr. Gold thought of Belle, immediately sensing the calm that settled over him as he pictured her walking into his shop to see him. Belle was in his life, she was good for him. He just couldn't have her the way he wanted, which might be for the best.

"I've made a friend. She runs our new library."

This caught the doctor's attention._ "She?"_

"It's not like that." Mr. Gold snapped, with a great deal of regret. "She's just a friend, she pops by the shop a few times a week. I haven't seen her lately though, she works two or three jobs from what I understand."

"Sounds like a hard-working girl."

"She is, she's very determined." He was proud of Belle, in a way. It wasn't everyday he heard of a woman struggle so hard just to make ends meet.

He was curious about her finances, thinking that Belle might be facing down a mountain of student loans or credit card debt. He longed to help her, if she would only explain her situation, but by the same token he dreaded the prospect of Belle coming to him for a favor of money. It would undo everything between them.

"Hmm. Maybe she should come see me."

The doctor's suggestion cut into Gold's thoughts. "Why?"

"Stress treatments if she should need them." Off the other man's scowl, the doctor was quick to reassure him, "Don't worry, Mr. Gold, I'm no poacher."

"I didn't think...never mind that." Gold huffed.

Together, the men left the exam room. Gold provided his insurance information and the doctor went on, "I'm not one to spout romance as being a cure-all, but human relationships, in this case, your friendship, can go a long way in improving one's health."

Mr. Gold shrugged. He knew Belle was good for him, but she was unattainable. She was in his life until she chose to move on from him, which could be any day now for all he knew.

"I suppose I'll keep her around for a little longer, then."

"Until next time, Mr. Gold." Dr. Carlton extended his hand and Mr. Gold shook it before leaving the doctor's office.

It was a bright day, the town keeping true to its name. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and ambled down the street, feeling content with his health results, the great weather and being away from the unpleasantness of Storybrooke.

Already being late into the summer, Gold was looking forward to fall. He liked to see the leaves change, and the cooler months followed by the biting cold reminded him of home. He hadn't been back to Scotland in years. Perhaps he should schedule a flight back, but he shrugged off the idea as he rounded a corner.

Mr. Gold hadn't come out to Sunshire just for his physical, he also had a bit of business to attend to.

The man walked down a few blocks until he found what he was looking for, a subtle storefront for Howard Jewelers. Gold stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a young blonde woman in a pretty green dress.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can we help you today?"

It was a lovely jewelry store, but Gold wasn't interested in the wares that filled all the cases. He had a trade to make. "I have an appointment with Winston Howard."

The blonde - Casey, her nametag read - nodded. "Oh, yes, Mr. Gold, he told me he was expecting you. Please, right this way." She lead him to the back of the show room, past the counter, to a door.

Casey quickly knocked on the door, calling, "Mr. Howard, I have Mr. Gold here for you."

A moment later the door opened and a man perhaps Gold's age, though he admittedly wore his years much better than Gold did, greeted them both. "Thanks, Casey. Mr. Gold, c'mon in."

He shut the door behind Gold and the men stood in the office, sizing each other up as they had never met before, they had only ever spoke on the phone and so were unsurprised by each other's accents - Gold's Scottish burr and Howard's southern drawl, both far removed from the east coast.

They both wore fine suits, and Howard was itching to ask after Gold's tailor, almost certain that they used the same service. Howard was taller, fuller, more classically handsome, and he found himself intrigued by Gold's unique appearance. Gold was a small man, with a slight frame that was thickening with his middle years, he wore his graying hair long and he walked with a cane. Interesting, that, but Howard wasn't so rude that he'd ask after the injury.

That wouldn't be good business, and he'd already waited years to get his hands on what Gold claimed to possess.

"Gold, have a seat. I'm guessing you're not one for dawdling around and neither am I so let's get to it."

"I would appreciate that."

Mr. Gold moved to sit in the plush leather chair before Howard's desk. The man had a proper office, whereas Gold just had the back work room of the pawn shop where he repaired antiques. No matter. The study in his home was more than enough for his needs.

Howard came around the desk and took a velvet pouch out from the main drawer just as Gold withdrew an antique brooch from his breast pocket. It was a gorgeous piece that he'd polished to perfection, the yellow gold shining in the overhead light, with emeralds, citrine and pearls adding lovely accent to the ivory cameo face piece.

Howard whistled at the sight of it. "Now that is a beauty."

Gold nodded his agreement. "It took me some time to track it down, but here it is."

"And there it is," Howard marveled. "And here you are, Gold. Six of my best."

Howard handed Gold the velvet pouch just as Gold passed him the brooch.

As Howard looked over the brooch with his jeweler's eyepiece, Gold opened the pouch and spread out six flawless amethysts over the surface of the desk. The men were silent as they looked over their respective treasures, two dragons cooing over new jewels.

Several long minutes passed as they brought all their experience to bear and then looked up at each other, satisfied with the trade.

Howard stood and offered his hand to Gold, who was quick to shake. After dealing with his two-faced clients in Storybrooke, it was intensely refreshing to make a civilized deal with another man of business integrity.

"All good, Gold?"

"These will do very well, thank you. And you, the brooch fits your needs?"

Howard took it in his hand and stroked the front face of it with his thumb. He was already in love. "It's perfect, Gold. Pleasure doing business with you."

"And with you, Howard."

The men shook hands again, and Howard walked Gold out to the showroom. Casey was speaking with a pair of customers, but she looked up and smiled at Mr. Howard.

Gold noted the fondness that passed between them.

The parallels between Howard and himself were suddenly a bit too familiar, so Gold quickly gave the man a polite goodbye and went on about his day.

* * *

><p>Blinking away that memory, Gold stood near a stall at Storybrooke's annual Fall Festival. It was a carnival weekend where the town square was taken over by craft and food stalls, petting zoos, pony rides, haystack mazes, games, raffles and auctions. The scent of fried foods and cotton candy filled the air, as did the music piped through speakers strung throughout the square.<p>

It was a pleasant marker between the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.

Despite his prickly disposition, Gold actually enjoyed these community holidays. The Fall Festival was his second favorite, narrowly beaten by Storybrooke's Spring Fling, which was much the same as the festival, differing only in that there were flower shows that could shame any arboretum of a larger city.

He walked past the game stalls, trying to ignore the pull in his chest at the sight of so many children out enjoying the day. He didn't have time for those memories, he had a private visit with Madame Mayor to arrange.

The thought of Regina brought on that strange emotion reserved solely for her; a mutual fondness and annoyance. He enjoyed toying with the woman, but he already knew that the tables had turned today, and she would be the one toying with him.

Gold knew the woman too well; he knew what she would have him do for her in exchange for what he wanted. He didn't mind since it was a pleasure to him as well, but he would rather-

"Mr. Gold!"

He looked up, brought out of his thoughts by Belle stepping into his line of sight. She was lovely as ever in a knee-length dress of deep violet, the color making her bright eyes absolutely startling.

How could it be that she had grown lovelier in their time apart?

They had not properly spoken to each other in weeks due to her taking on extra work, and Gold surprised himself by allowing a wide smile to cross his face and he reached forward, his hand closing over her forearm in a semblance of an embrace, his thumb stroking the inside of her elbow as she returned the grasp on his arm, her clever fingertips stroking him through the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"Miss French. It's been too long."

They had made an agreement toward discretion, true, but to hell with the town, just greeting each other in the crowd was hardly worth noting. He couldn't help but stare at her, he'd been deprived of her company, his greedy eyes were eating her up and his chest was fluttering again for being close to her.

"I know. Thankfully things have evened out, I'll be back to bothering you soon enough."

"Is that a threat?" He asked.

Belle winked at him. "It's a promise."

Gold felt an annoying heat rise over his throat and prayed she wouldn't see it come over his cheeks. "I'll have your teacup ready for your next visit, my dear." He said warmly.

"And I'll bring you my latest tea blend, it's wild orange blossom, you'll love it." She promised excitedly. Belle could feel her chest tighten with fondness for the man, seeing that he had truly missed her in their time apart. Perhaps her feelings weren't quite so one-sided as she'd thought.

They stood, just looking at each other, until someone passing by nudged Belle's shoulder, breaking the trace they'd held over each other. It was in that moment they both seemed to realize that they were still holding the other's arm, and they immediately dropped the contact, smiling lightly and ignoring their blushes.

"I didn't think I'd see you out here today." Belle said as she fell into step with him, moving through the square.

"You're right, I'm usually not much for mingling, but sometimes I just can't stay away." Gold admitted, inclining his head toward their mayor. Regina was standing several yards to their right, directing a group of performers toward the main staging area before the civil building that fronted the fair.

"The mayor made you come?"

Gold flashed her a sly look. "She likes to think so, but no one makes me do anything."

Belle didn't doubt that for a moment. She was well aware of his defiant personality, just as he knew her to be perhaps too soft-hearted for her own good.

"Would you like a cider?" He asked, gesturing to the food stalls.

The hot apple cider, dusted with cinnamon, was an old favorite brewed by John and Michael Tims. The dim-witted brothers often sold so much of the drink that they would run out and need to make more throughout the fair to keep up with the town's demand.

Belle smiled. "I've already had a few cups, but thank you. I came out today to see the crafts, I was hoping to find something to brighten up my apartment. The stained glass is beautiful but a bit too pricey. I might get a little print for the wall instead."

Glancing past her to the craft stands, Gold raised a brow. He hated that Belle worked so hard and still had to deprive herself. "Which piece did you like? Show me, I'd be happy to-"

"There you are, Gold."

Both Gold and Belle turned to see their mayor approaching, as polished as ever in a sleek charcoal dress topped with a camel peacoat. She stood tall on a pair of killer stiletto heels that Gold himself had gifted to her as congratulations for her winning the popular vote, securing her seat over Storybrooke.

"Madame Mayor." He greeted.

Gold shared a quick knowing look with Belle, and he gave her a nod of dismissal. Belle played her part, flashing him another quick wink and slinking away from him as Regina came close.

Truly, Belle was disappointed to have their reunion cut short, but Mr. Gold would make time for her in private. In his shop, they didn't have to play at being near strangers to each other, and Belle looked forward to that much more than she should.

Regina followed Belle with her eyes, watching as the woman retreated into the crowd. She was quickly joined by two men and a blonde woman, and the small group went off toward the game stalls.

Regina looked back to Gold. "What was the librarian after?"

Gold shrugged. "Who knows? Some nonsense about adding on to the children's section."

Regina raised a brow. "The library has barely been open for six months and she wants additions? No. That can wait until next fiscal year."

Gold nodded his agreement, keeping up the lie. "Nevermind her, let the library burn. You know why I'm here."

"I have that item you wanted." Regina said plainly. She was happy, content with the day so far, and was now eagerly anticipating their evening together.

"Where?"

"You know where." She said, revelling in their banter. "Come to my house. Tonight."

"And what will I have to do for you once I get there?" Gold wasn't sure why he bothered to ask when he already knew the answer. They played this game at least twice a month.

Regina raised a smug brow at him, and Gold groaned. "You're insatiable, Regina. So like your mother."

Her appetite for his skill was flattering, but all the same her price was becoming tiresome. Regina grinned, knowing she'd won. "You know my price, you know what I want."

"All too well." Gold relented with a soft smile that soon matched her own. He could never stay cross with her when it came to this. "So, will you be providing the whipped cream this time or should I?"


	9. Winter Comes

Gold poured a glass of wine and then another, carrying both into the living room where Regina awaited him. She was reclining back on the sofa, facing the fireplace. The licking flames gilded her skin, heating her and the room entire. He quirked his lips at the sight of her. She looked like a spoiled cat, and with good reason for the effort he'd put in tonight.

He set the wine glasses on the low table and moved to sit beside her, taking her bare feet into his lap. He didn't mind, her dainty paws were always well-manicured and polished. Gold began a massage of her feet, putting gentle pressure into her arches.

"Tonight was wonderful as always, Gold." Regina told him, breaking the silence.

Gold smiled at the compliment, sated and smug. "I do aim to please, Madame Mayor."

She reached for a glass and took a long pull of the wine, watching him over the rim. Regina stretched. "Mm, you sure do. Keep this up and I'll have you move in."

"Oh, wherever will you find room for me in this tiny house?" Gold asked. The mayoral mansion stretched out around them in all directions, six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, four open use rooms, a large sun room, a formal dining room, and the living room they were using now for this, one of their many private meetings.

Regina shrugged. "I have a dungeon in the basement or there's a cage in my room, take your pick."

Gold laughed. "A cage? And how many of your other victims would I have to share it with?"

The woman shrugged. "Only a few, Gold. You know I keep things discreet. Oh, I forgot to ask you, how was that doctor's appointment?"

"Perfect health." Gold told her, his hands moving on to massage her ankles for a minute before he moved her feet off his lap so that he could reach for his own glass. It was a deep red, and a good year. He only drink wine with her.

"Oh, good."

Gold shrugged, "Yes, I'm afraid you're stuck with me for awhile more yet."

"I'll just have to work harder to drive you out of town, then." Regina remarked, and she wondered if she could get an order to foreclose his pawn shop the next time he spent a day out of town.

"You seem to forget I was here first."

"I haven't forgotten. But _I_ won the mayoral seat."

"Oh, Regina. You may have the mayoral seat, but the chair is in my house." Gold narrowed his eyes at her. "You'd still be a legal aid in cheap shoes without me."

Regina glanced down to her stilettos, set on the floor just beside the sofa, thinking back to the night of her triumph. They had been together, waiting at his house as the results were announced on television. As her name flashed across the screen, Regina had screamed out her victorious joy, while Gold had only smiled, withdrawing the shoebox with the designer's label elegantly scrawled over the lid. A gift for her, "So that you'll look the part. Congratulations, Madame Mayor." He'd said. Regina remembered thinking that night that Gold had been pleased, but not a bit surprised by the election's outcome.

Regina shook her head and shifted off the sofa to retrieve Gold's favor. "That's not something I'm likely to forget. You hold it over me every time you need something special."

"I don't bother you for favors all that often. Only when I need things to hurry along. I'm usually patient."

"I'll give you that, you always take your time. So why fast-track this?" Regina asked, handing him the permit he'd requested.

Gold took it from her and leaned forward on the sofa as he gave it a quick once-over to make sure it was all in order. It was, of course. Regina was never sloppy with her paperwork and she knew better than to try pulling any tricks with him.

"I want to have everything wrapped by the end of the fiscal year, this was the best way toward that end."

"Clever."

"Why, thank you." Gold checked his watch and frowned lightly. He had stayed longer than he'd intended, but time with her could never be rushed. "Regina, I'm going to head back home."

Likewise, Regina looked over to the clock on the mantel. It was already past midnight. "You sure?"

"Yes, it'll be a long day tomorrow." Gold gestured to the permit. "If I stay the night here I won't want to leave."

Regina smiled, "That wouldn't be so bad. Henry loves when you come to visit."

"Oh, just Henry?" Gold teased as she moved past him to retrieve his suit jacket. He had left it in the other room along with her own coat before they'd gotten on to their private evening.

Gold nodded his thanks to her and stood to slip on his jacket. He straightened his shirt and tie, smoothed his hair, putting himself back into some semblance of respectability, and then took his cane from Regina.

"All right. Maybe me too." She relented, moving to follow him to the front door. Regina hadn't bothered with her heels, she followed after him barefoot in the hall.

Gold paused at the door before leaving, turning to her, "Regina...you do know that, if things had been different..."

He let it hang there, as he always did. Regina knew his reasons, every one of them, all too well.

"I know." She said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Gold...Henry's softball team has a game next Saturday, in Rockland. Will you come?"

He did not miss the hope in her voice and so could not refuse. "Of course."

"Thank you. I know he'll be happy to have you there."

"I wouldn't miss it. Goodnight, Regina."

Gold kissed her cheek before leaving, the same way he had every time they parted company in private.

* * *

><p>As the days grew shorter, Belle's schedule settled into a more managable balance. She kept her shifts at the library and the flower shop, only taking on extra work when it was absolutely necessary to assist with the bills.<p>

The woman had had a stern talk with her father, making herself clear that he could count on her help but she would be damned if she did it all herself.

Belle sighed lightly to herself, touching the single pearl at her throat. _I don't know why he keeps the shop. She's not coming back._

Winter wasn't coming any longer, it had arrived. The autumn has been swift and Belle had been content enough. She had reconnected with her friends, added a few comforting touches to her bedroom and was feeling more and more confident in her ability to run the library.

Someday she might have it all.

But not today.

Belle rubbed at the back of her neck and went on reshelving books in the back stacks. Even the tedious work here was calming to the woman; the library, naturally, was a still and quiet place during the daylight hours, and depending on what day it was, there would be an evening program put on for the children such as the live readings (not a single one of her co-stars could hold a candle to Mr. Gold's performance as far as Belle was concerned) or Midnight Story Circle, or there were the adult book clubs and literacy assistance.

Belle loved it, all of it, but she was only part-time due to her lack of prior experience. Mrs. Mullins worked the majority of time as she had spent years in the stacks of Sunshire's Central Library. Belle wasn't ready to take the reigns by herself yet, but in a year or two, yes, she could do it.

Once she had full-time work and the full-time paychecks to go along with it, Belle would be more secure. She felt a small swell of hope at the thought. _One job, regular hours._ She could save up more money, maybe enough to go back to school or even travel.

_Not yet_.

She was getting too far ahead of herself.

For now Belle would have to limp along with the $768 she had in her savings account, presenting her friends with handmade crafts or clearance gifts for the holidays and their birthdays, watching every penny spent and every dime on the ground.

But she could do it. For the future she pictured for herself, the quiet, happy life she strived for, she could do it.

Belle tucked a baking book under her arm and kept it on her side of the check-out counter. She'd check it out for herself at the end of her shift.

"Ring my Belle!"

She turned around and smiled, "Marcus!"

Another of her boyfriends from high school who had gone on to make good and changed throughout the years. Unlike Shane who had taken over his late father's jewelry store, Marcus had taken his love of everything with an engine and went to work as a mechanic. He had been saving for years and, with a hefty loan from Mr. Gold, he finally had enough capital to venture out on his own. His plan was to open his own auto parts store, to make himself a valuable resource to the town. It was ambitious, something Gold appreciated and so they had worked out the details quickly, and Marcus would be set to open his store in the next few months.

Belle gave the man a quick hug. "What brings you in?" She asked, her voice hushed.

Marcus put his arm around Belle's shoulders and steered her toward the admittedly small automotive section of the library. Whenever he came in to visit her at work, he always checked out the same set of books. "I have a unique opportunity and I couldn't wait to tell you." He confided quietly. "Tomorrow I'm going down to New Hampshire to see a man about a horse."

Belle pulled out of his hold and turned to face him. "You don't mean-?"

"Yes. I called the guy last night the second I saw the ad pop up online. It needs some work but the price is right." Marcus told her, practically bouncing before her. "I'm going for it, Belle! It's too good an opportunity to pass up, I have to have it!"

For as long as they had known each other, Belle had known of Marcus's longing for his dream car: a 1965 cherry red Ford Mustang. He planned to do all kinds of modern additions to the car without ruining the classic look that he'd idolized since he was a boy.

He was a man now, but every bit the young boy obsessed with his favorite toy as he took out his cell and showed Belle the ad. The car shown in the pics was a bit beat up, its original white paint chipped and scraped. But Marcus was in love, Belle hadn't seen the excited shine in his eyes since he'd first seen-

"Belle."

Both Belle and Marcus turned to see Ariel stride in close. Her gorgeous hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, and she was dressed casually in jeans, a white blouse and a soft brown leather jacket hugging tight to her waist.

"Hey, Ariel, want to see my new baby?" Marcus stepped over and showed her the pictures. "She needs a little work, but give me a year - hell, give me four months, tops, and I'll have her looking better than brand new."

Ariel smiled. "I don't doubt it."

Marcus's eyes were hungrily scrolling through the stream of pictures again and again, expanding each one to better assess the details. "It'll be amazing, when I'm finished this town will be swarming with photographers trying to get pictures of her for the cover of _MotorTrend_."

Belle winked at Ariel, "He's modest, isn't he?"

Ariel pat his shoulder. "The man's obsessed, but I won't turn down a ride when the car's road ready."

Marcus absently shook his head. "Sorry, Red, but Belle will be the first chick I pick up in my ride. The passenger seat is reserved for her ass and her ass alone, at least for the first spin around town." He gave a sound smack to Belle's rear, drawing looks from a few people reading at nearby tables.

Belle shoved him away, but Marcus wasn't bothered as he headed to the automotive section and pulled his usual books covering race cars and, naturally, his favorite_, The Complete Book of Mustang_ by Mike Mueller.

Ariel rolled her eyes at him. Marcus could be crass and inappropriate just for the hell of it, but he had proved himself a friend time and time again to them both throughout the years. "He's such a charmer."

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance at a ride in his baby once he's fixed it." Belle told her. "I know he'll be buried in those books for a little bit. What brings you by?"

Ariel dismissed Marcus and moved with Belle over toward the check-out desk. "He's not the only one with news. I'm going to submit my book to some salons in New York."

Belle raised her brows. "You are? That's great!"

After her clients went for a dramatic change in their hair, such as a perm, a big cut, adding bangs or a color wash, Ariel took 'before' and 'after' pictures and kept them in a book to be submitted to the top stylists hiring in New York. She didn't want to leave her family salon, but there was so much more she could learn and so many opportunities to expand her skills outside of Storybrooke. She was determined to try.

Ariel smiled at her. "I just wanted to let you know since you're in it, remember the red wash?"

Belle nodded. "I loved that look but you know I can't afford the upkeep-"

"I know, I know! Promise me when you're full-time you'll dye it again, it suits you perfectly." Ariel told her.

"I promise." Belle said, and put a hand over her heart.

Ariel frowned and grabbed Belle's hand. "Your nails are chipped, Belle. Come see me tomorrow."

Belle pulled her hand out of Ariel's grasp. "Hey! I'm not letting myself go, a manicure had to take a backseat to Game of Thorns last week, that's all."

Her friend nodded. "I get it, I do, but we can't have you in Marcus's new car with nails like that."

Belle and Ariel laughed quietly, glancing back to Marcus, so engrossed in his car books and completely oblivious to the outside world.

Ariel left soon after, and Marcus wasn't far behind her after he'd checked out the Mueller book for the third time in as many months. Belle went on through her shift, checking out the baking book for herself at the end of the day.

Belle was excited to help Nova and maybe this would be the start of a new hobby, something she desperately needed since so much of her life revolved around working and the stress of stretching dollars.

At least baking was stress-free, it was low-cost and yielded tasty rewards.

Belle bought a handful of ingredients on her way home and got ready to begin.

* * *

><p>December rolled over Storybrooke, biting and harsh.<p>

Snow had hit the town, blanketing everything in white. Gold liked the winter, it reminded him of his youth in Scotland, wonderful memories of love and fun and unending potential.

He looked over to his companion.

With her time finished at the library, Belle had popped over to visit with Gold until Ruby got off her shift in another hour. Gold didn't mind in the least. Rather than sit at the counter and watch him, Belle had pitched in, helping him arrange a bookshelf with newly acquired first editions and then, she had wandered the floor with a Swiffer dry dust mop as he balanced the shop ledger. His accounts were all handled online, but Gold liked to use a ledger for inventory purposes and as a backup in case the system ever failed him.

Gold glanced up from his work to watch as Belle moved about the shop, her eyes taking in the musical instruments he had hanging on the walls behind the far counter. He wondered if she played anything, if she could play him a little song. He favored her visits above any others, Belle was above every other soul who ventured into his shop, and watching the lights from outside dance over her hair, Gold knew then that he'd made the right decision.

He called her over to the counter.

"Miss French, I don't celebrate the holiday anymore, but as you've been so helpful these last several months..."

Gold set a little box on the counter between them, his meaning plain. Belle grinned and opened the gift, her eyes going wide once she saw the treasure within.

Nestled in the velvet inserts was a pair of teardrop topaz earrings, the stones the brightest blue that Belle had ever seen. "Oh, Mr. Gold, they're just beautiful!" Belle lifted one earring to get a closer look, her chest lurching to see the stone catch the light. These earrings were genuine, the topaz having to have cost upward of a thousand dollars. "And much too expensive, you shouldn't have spent so much-"

Gold waved off her concern. "Think nothing of it. They're a gift, as you've proven yourself a gifted research assistant. You earned them."

Belle looked down to the earrings again, then back up to him, moved. "Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Gold. They're just perfect. I'll wear them every day." She promised. "You know, I got you a little something too."

"No need."

Belle shook her head, "Please, you've livened things up for me whether you know it or not. May I have your tie?"

"My tie?"

"Just for a minute." Belle removed a plastic container from her tote bag and set it on the counter. "Have a cookie, I made them for you."

Gold lifted the lid, the scents of cinnamon and chocolate rising to greet him. When was the last time a woman had baked for him? When was the last time anyone had given a damn?

"Miss French...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything other than, 'these are the best I've ever had, Belle'." She told him, making a bad attempt at copying his accent.

Gold slipped off his tie and handed it to her, then took an oatmeal raisin cookie for himself, biting into it with relish. "You were right, this is the best I've ever had." And his words were genuine as he reached for another, this one a tart orange-cranberry. His wife had been a wonderful cook, but she'd rarely baked sweets.

The man watched, curious, as Belle moved to the wall mirror and tied his tie about her own neck. He wasn't sure why until he saw her slip a thin golden pin into the material. Ah, a new tie pin - he already had several, but held his tongue in telling her so. Belle slipped the tie over her head and came back to him, looping it about his neck, tucking it under his collar, sliding the knot, tightening it for him.

Gold had frozen, going still with surprise at how close Belle was to him, by her hands-on behavior. The only reason anyone else in Storybrooke would get this close would be to strangle him, but miracle that she was, Belle didn't seem bothered by touching him at all. She took a step back to assess the man, and smiled.

Belle hadn't planned to buy her friends anything for the holiday, but a Groupon deal had popped up in her e-mail presenting an offer too good to pass on. With the coupon tickets, she had been able to select a handful of gifts for her close friends - a pair of stud earrings for Ruby, a bracelet for Ariel, a watch for Marcus, a wallet for Shane, and the tie pin for Mr. Gold - from an online store at clearance prices. How could she refuse? Even small gifts would be better than coming up empty-handed or just handing out cookies to everyone she knew.

Mr. Gold stood before her, the pin a gleaming break in the black of his suit. He was as handsome as ever, and Belle was pleased to see him wear something that she had gifted to him. He was hers, and he wore the proof.

"There we are."

Gold looked down at his tie and smirked to see a tiny engraved **G** in the center of the pin.

_Nice touch, that._

"Thank you very much, Miss French."

The man watched as Belle then moved to the mirror and put on her new earrings, turning back to him with a dazzling smile, "Now how do I look?"

"Lovely as always."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Gold." Belle winked, and she was so very happy. The woman was preening, color rising in her cheeks. Gold didn't know it, but the topaz earrings were the first genuine gemstones that Belle could call her own.

"I certainly hope so."

Belle laughed but any further giggle ceased in her throat as she checked her watch. "Oh, I have to run, but I'll see you when I get back." She touched his hand. "Thank you again for my earrings. Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold."

Gold watched as she hurried across the street to meet with Ruby just outside of the diner. The two friends hugged and laughed together, thick as thieves.

He fingered his new tie pin and smiled to himself, "Merry Christmas, Belle."

A light snow began to fall, and Gold returned to his work.


	10. Tenderness

Belle curled into the cushions of her reading chair, a fleece blanket drawn over her shoulders. It was late and she couldn't sleep, a lucky thing she wasn't working in the morning. She couldn't concentrate on her reading, the stack of novels on the floor was proof enough of her restless mind. For once she wasn't kept awake with worry over money; rather, she was preoccupied with Mr. Gold.

Belle fingered one of the topaz at her ears and removed the earring to look at it.

The man had gifted her a beautiful pair of earrings in gratitude for her help in researching the treasures that had passed through his shop over the past several months. She had heard the rumors and ignored them all, finding an unexpected friend in the town monster. Belle did not lie to herself; she was happy with Mr. Gold as her friend but she would like to explore more with him, and why not? They shared so many interests, and they got along so well. Though he was unlike any of the other men in her past, Belle had found herself deeply attracted to him, even giving in to lustful fantasies while in the bath or late at night in bed.

The man was a frequent visitor to her daydreams and active thoughts, but now, Belle didn't know what to think, because she hadn't met with Mr. Gold or even heard from him in weeks. No one had seen Mr. Gold since late December, nearly a month ago. The days left in January were dwindling, and no one seemed to care that Mr. Gold had vanished.

_Maybe vanished isn't the right word_, Belle thought, her eyes still on the topaz earring she held. _He closed his shop, he locked up his house, he took his wallet, cell phone and car. He _planned_ this._

Yes, he'd planned to go away somewhere and he hadn't breathed a word of his intentions to her.

Belle had been as casual as she could manage when she'd questioned the sheriff at Granny's after seeing the sign on the pawn shop door, a notice of the shop undergoing a temporary closing. "I was going to see about selling an old bracelet of my mother's to Mr. Gold but there's a sign on the door saying he's closed up shop. Do you know when he'll be back?" She'd asked, inwardly clamoring for anything Graham might know.

Sheriff Graham hadn't been much help, shrugging as he'd tucked into a lunch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. "Gold does this every couple years or so, he disappears in the winter for weeks at a time to do some business out of state. No big deal."

_No big deal._

That was the attitude of everyone Belle had mentioned Mr. Gold's disappearance to, hoping someone would have more details to share with her - what kind of business he was doing, who he was dealing with, how long he would stay away. She spun the same story of needing to sell a bracelet to explain her interest in his whereabouts, but she could not explain away the urgency of her questions.

But as no one cared much for the man, so no one missed him or knew for sure where he'd gone. Belle couldn't stop her mind spinning off a hundred different explanations, nearly all of them ending with Mr. Gold dead in a ditch somewhere because he was a rich, vulnerable man and the world could be cruel, even within the soft confines of Storybrooke.

Belle knew she needed to stop this.

Mr. Gold had probably decided to take a vacation to Boston or New York after his business. For a moment she pictured the man strolling through a lavish hotel suite in a fluffy robe, but then why wouldn't he have mentioned he was planning the trip? He'd agreed that they were friends, so why would he do this, just disappear without a word? It didn't make any sense to Belle, and she was truly hurt by his silence.

A lone car passed by on the street below, and she realized it was well past midnight._ I need to go to sleep - I can't keep worrying after him, I'll drive myself crazy._ Belle smiled to herself, even rolling her eyes as she moved toward her bedroom. _It's a short drive from here to insanity!_

Belle took off the other earring, setting the pair on her nightstand before settling back under the covers of her bed. She was tired of worrying for him, tired of missing the man, and if Graham was to be believed, then Mr. Gold could be coming back any day now.

Belle scowled, because the next time she saw the man, she planned to really let him have it for disappearing on her. Of course, that might scare Mr. Gold out of town for good.

* * *

><p>Sunday morning dawned bright and bitter cold, and thanks to another restless night, Belle woke late and was slow in starting her day. The library was closed, and she wasn't working the flower shop either. It was to be another lazy Sunday, but she was determined to break her hermit habit and spend some time with actual people, not just those in her books or online.<p>

So, Belle showered, she dressed, she put on her face and a jacket over her sweater and jeans. She thought to run down to Granny's to visit Ruby and grab something to eat, then check in with Emma to see if she was up for some shopping. Shane had given her a pre-loaded debit card for Christmas, so she had a little extra to spend on herself for once.

Belle made her way down the street, passing the pawn shop as she had for days, and glanced down at the door, expecting to see the sign - but it wasn't there!

She stopped short to look through the window, and caught sight of movement inside the shop. Belle didn't waste any time, she ignored the 'closed' sign and plowed through the front door, crying out, "Mr. Gold!" with all the subtlety of a bullhorn.

The man was standing in his usual spot toward the back of the shop, his arms spread, hands braced forward on the counter before him. He lifted his head to greet her. "Ah, Miss French. Hello."

When Mr. Gold looked up at her, Belle stopped short at the sight of him. Despite his suit, an impeccable grey with a pale blue shirt and thin black tie beneath, the man looked terrible. His face was pale, gaunt, the soft lines that bracketed his mouth seemed deeper, and his dark eyes were bloodshot.

"Mr. Gold, where've you been?" Her concern over his appearance was fading in the face of outright curiosity. She had to know what had taken him away from her for so long, damn it!

Gold straightened, twisting the ornate ring he often wore on his right hand. "There was some business I had to attend to." He said softly, and Belle wasn't in any way naive. She knew he was lying.

"I don't believe you. What kind of business would take you away for a month without a word?" She demanded.

Gold visibly bristled at the question. "The private kind, Miss French."

Seeing Belle draw back at his tone, Gold immediately softened his voice. He was wrong to snap at her when she'd clearly missed him because God knew no one else had. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, it's been a trying time and I haven't been sleeping well."

"I know how you feel, I haven't been sleeping well either." _Because instead of sleeping I've been up all night for weeks worried about you, you idiot!_ She bit her tongue to keep from screaming the rest at him.

Gold speared frustrated fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't have...have you eaten yet?"

Belle was taken off-guard by the question, "Not yet, no."

"Come with me, we'll pop over to Granny's." Gold suggested. "I'll buy you breakfast and we'll talk. Besides, it'll be good to show my face, let the townsfolk know their dragon has come back."

Belle couldn't turn down the offer of a free breakfast, and she couldn't resist the promise in her friend's mischievous smile.

* * *

><p>Mr. Gold was not himself, that much had been clear to Belle when she'd first seen him. In the months they'd known each other, in the countless visits between them at the shop and the library and whenever they ran into each other all about town, he had never looked anything other than calm and wholly collected.<p>

Now, though, Belle was seeing a crack in the polished veneer of Mr. Gold. He looked both exhausted and restless, disheveled in spite of his wardrobe, and it was clear that wherever he'd been all this time had caused him a great deal of distress.

_But he's home now. That has to be worth something._

Belle kept her resentment over his leaving to herself; Mr. Gold clearly didn't want to discuss the details of his time away, he'd rather stay with this vague story of business out of town. He was hiding something, but the truth of it upset him in a way that Belle had never seen before.

She decided that she would be a supportive friend rather than nag at him to tell her what he would rather keep private; she would be positive, a bright beacon to lift this darkness that had come over him.

Thankfully, she could tell he was more at ease being out of the shop, though whether it was her doing or the coffee that was helping him focus, Belle could not say.

"So, did you find what you were looking for while you were gone?" Belle asked, trying to be nonchalant as she sipped her own cup of coffee.

Inside, she was dying to know what the man had done while he'd been away, and why he was acting so strangely now. His snapping at her in the shop she could chalk up to the trouble sleeping he'd mentioned - that didn't bother her at all, who in the world had never felt a moment's irritation? What was out of character for him was that Gold had offered to take her to breakfast, flaunting their connection out in the open.

_Maybe he's just had enough of hiding. Maybe I have, too._

Mr. Gold sat across from her, on his second cup. Ruby was quick in making her rounds with the fresh pot of coffee, but from the curious looks she was shooting to Belle, it was obvious she was just trying to eavesdrop.

"In a way."

"That's good. Did you get anything you need help researching?"

"No. It wasn't that kind of trip. What I look for when I go and what I find when I make the trip are always two different things. What I'm looking for...I won't find it again. Ever." He grimaced, but then gave her a sad, crooked smile. "But I keep looking, so the rumors of my insanity are true."

The man began to tear at his paper napkin, the tension within emerging in his words and the busyness of his hands.

Belle knew that he had just confided something important to her, but she couldn't understand him for the vague phrasing he'd used. Whatever it was, he was deeply troubled by the secret he held.

What could she do but offer her help?

Belle had more questions itching on her tongue, but Ruby approached their table bearing waffles, eggs, sausage, juice and more coffee. They thanked her, and Gold was quick to evade the question he knew was coming next.

"I need ketchup, one moment."

Gold stood and went to the counter for a bottle, just as Regina came into the diner, her lithe form wrapped in a deep cranberry sheath dress with her favored camel peacoat topping it, nude heels on her feet. Belle tensed in the boothe once Regina's dark eyes locked on to Mr. Gold.

The man noticed that Belle's attention had shifted, and he turned around to see Regina standing there.

"So, Gold, you're back." She stated plainly, her voice just dripping with condescension.

"Yes, Madame Mayor, I'm back. Congratulations for having eyes." Gold hissed. "I would've stayed gone but God knows I can't leave this town under your leadership. It'd be anarchy in another week."

Belle wasn't sure what she was seeing, but it was clear to her that, while their voices were saying one thing, their eyes were saying another.

Something was happening here, what was she missing?

"Yes, well, I meant to thank you for staying away this Christmas, but now the holidays are over I see you're ready to sweep in and spread your usual brand of misery. So glad to have you back."

Just as Regina had finished that insult, young Henry came into the diner, oblivious to the tension between the adults. "Mom, I forgot to ask if I can have some - Mr. Gold, you came back!"

Henry rushed forward and hugged Gold about the waist, drawing stares of mingled confusion and amusement from everyone in the diner.

Pain flashed across Mr. Gold's face for a moment before he covered it with a smile and returned the boy's happy embrace. He pulled back and ruffled Henry's hair, true fondness in the touch. "Hey, Henry. How are you? Been doing well in school?"

"Oh, yes, we're starting to learn about the other planets in science class, it's my favorite! I can already name them all." The boy boasted. "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars - did you know that Mars is the name of the Roman God of War? He was also called Ares in ancient Greece and-"

"Henry." Regina put a hand on her son's shoulder, halting his words. Once Henry got to talking about other worlds, there was no stopping him. "Ah, Henry, we should let Mr. Gold get on with his breakfast. Please, go back to the car. Go ahead, I'm right behind you."

At his mother's urging, Henry did as he was told and returned to the sedan in the parking lot, waiting for his mother to bring the box of donuts, their Sunday treat after church.

Once her son was out of sight, Regina scowled at Gold again. "Whatever you're up to, whatever game you're playing, I won't let you get away with it. I'll be by the shop later."

Gold forced a smile. "Oh, I look forward to that, dearie."

Regina took her box from Ruby, managing to do so without breaking her stare from Gold's. Turning on her heel, she left the diner. In the wake of the mayor's departure, oxygen seemed to rush back into the restaurant, and the other customers resumed their conversations, the diner again filling with Sunday morning chatter.

Gold moved back into the boothe to face Belle. "I apologize for that, it seems our mayor wanted to welcome me back personally."

Belle's jaw tensed with what she was readying herself to say. "Mr. Gold, we are friends, aren't we?"

"I like to think so, Miss French."

"Then what are you hiding?" She asked, crossing her arms before her.

Gold started at the question, rattling his coffee cup. "Excuse me?"

"Stop keeping me in the dark. I'm not blind. You disappear for weeks without a word, and then all that with the mayor?" Belle gestured to the counter where they'd had that toxic exchange. "You two seemed like you were friends after we had our performance at the library, but every time before and every time after that night you've been at each other's throats. Something is wrong, I know it. Please tell me what's really happening. I'd help if you'd only let me."

And that, right there, her words, the truth in her eyes, was what made Gold love her.

And his time away was all the reminder he'd needed of why she could never be his.

Gold looked away, sorry for the lies he had to tell her, sorry for everything that he was. "I just...I have a complicated relationship with our mayor, as I do most people. And as to where I was...I am sorry that I didn't tell you I was leaving. I've forgotten that there is an element of responsibility that goes hand in hand with having a friend." Gold reached across the table to take her hand, pleased that she didn't pull back from him. "I should have mentioned that I was going away."

"But where did you go? The truth this time, please, Mr. Gold." Belle asked in earnest, squeezing his fingers.

Gold wanted to tell her, truly he did, but some things he preferred to keep private, while still others he refused to discuss with anyone, for any reason whatsoever. Gold guarded his secrets as fiercely as a dragon guarded its hoard.

"I was in Sunshire for part of the time I was away." He allowed. That much was harmless to share.

"And the rest of the time?"

Gold held fast to his cup, bracing for Belle's anger. "I'm sorry, that I can't say."

Rather than anger, the woman only chuckled at his evasive answer, and she sighed lightly, letting go of his hand and her determination to root out his problem. Clearly, he wasn't ready to talk, and she couldn't force the issue without pushing him away. "All right. Fair enough, Mr. Gold. You know, you are a man with a lot of layers."

"I am?"

He had been called many things throughout his life, a layered man was far from the worst.

Belle winked, "You're practically an onion." She lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll let you have your secrets. But you have to promise that you'll let me know the next time you need to leave town for so long. I was bored out of my mind with you gone."

Gold nodded. "I will. I promise. Thank you, Belle."

Belle felt a shiver down her back at hearing her name said by his voice, so softly, with _that_ accent. She smiled and leaned in, a conspiring gleam in her eyes. "All right. Now, do you want to hear some of the scandalous gossip that went on while you were away?"

Gold smiled, "Of course, Miss French. Tell me everything."

"Well..."

As Belle went on to tell him of the little happenings about town, whose dog had had a litter of puppies, what new books had come into circulation at the library and the like, Gold was able to relax, the band of tension and anxiety loosening its hold on him.

_Ah_...

The man could feel it happening. Belle was working her magic as she always did, her words, her smile were soothing him, calming him, lifting the darkness that plagued his mind.

By the time they had finished their breakfast, Gold was more settled, more himself.

Belle was so wonderful, so lovely. She made him forget, she made him feel lighter than air, as if his leg had never been ruined, and he was a man still whole. He longed to tell her so many of his truths, but they had not known each other a year, hardly long enough to confide anything of such consequence.

Mentally he took a deep breath, letting his tension fall away, letting his confidence rise to the surface.

_It will be all right_, he reassured himself.

Belle forgave him leaving, she was happy to have him back, and he found himself genuinely glad to be back in Storybrooke, to return to the comfort of his familiar routine, antiquing and her visits to the shop.

It was far from what he wanted, none of this was ideal. But if this was all he was granted, Belle, this bittersweet reminder of what he could have, if only he deserved to be happy again, then Gold believed he could go on.

Yes.

He could manage, he could go on with his life as it was.

_It will be all right, it will be all right..._

And things were, following his return. Gold collected the rent, he took in new pieces to restore, he negotiated deals, he traded favors, occasionally he was berated by unhappy clients who had neglected to read one piece of fine print or another, but that meant nothing to him so long as Belle came to visit his shop and his dreams.

On returning to Storybrooke, he'd driven past her apartment, taken with the fear that she would punish him for leaving in some way, but he should have known she wasn't so petty. She hadn't nagged him to reveal the truth, she hadn't made a scene. Instead, she'd been her simple, kind self and, three days after his return, Belle had slipped into the shop near closing time, bearing two bottles of ginger ale. That evening, it was as if he had never left.

Mr. Gold had been forgiven, and he knew that was no small thing.

* * *

><p>From there, things went back to normal between them, though Belle and Gold carefully avoided each other around Valentine's Day, unwilling to twist the knife of their own insecurities.<p>

March was uneventful, as spring swept through Storybrooke with bright buttery sunlight and green buds covered every branch in sight. Gold and Belle had reclaimed and even deepened their routine, spending longer and longer amounts of time together, though still largely in secret.

One night during the first week of April found Belle studying the checker board before her, with two distinct strategies dancing in her mind - both would ensure her victory, but both depended on Gold maneuvering his pieces to her advantage and he was far too clever, far too experienced to just hand her a win.

A thunderstorm was raging outside; it was been churning over Storybrooke for days, and the clouds had burst sheets of rain down upon them just an hour ago. Being from Scotland, Gold wasn't bothered by storms, but his companion was happiest with sunny skies.

Belle blinked as the shop was suddenly thrown into darkness, the background hum of electricity and the music of his radio dropping into silence.

"Ah, that ends our game then."

She could just make out his form across the counter from her, and looking past him out the window, Belle could see that the rest of the block had gone dark as well. She was sure that everyone in the other shops were scrambling for flashlights.

This storm had been simmering above them for days, now that it had broken free it had taken half the town's light.

"I was so close to beating you." Belle remarked as she moved off her stool.

"I've heard it said that you're a dreamer, Miss French."

Belle could hear the mocking smirk in his voice with the comment as she wrapped her scarf about her throat. "Give me time, I'll have you."

"I look forward to that." Gold purred. He watched as Belle tightened the colorful scarf over her throat, frowning when she unsnapped her umbrella. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm? I'm getting ready to go." She thought that much was obvious even in the near-dark.

"Alone in this storm? No, I'll drive you."

"You're sure?"

Gold took his keys off the hook on the wall after pulling on his coat. "It's only a few blocks. Just let me lock up here and we'll be on our way."

* * *

><p>In the narrow garage that connected at the back of the shop's work room, Belle circled his vehicle, taking in every line and detail. It was obviously loved and very well cared for; its deep black coat shined from a recent wash, though it was sure to streak now that he had to drive in the storm.<p>

Gold watched her from the doorway as she looked over his car, and he wasn't sure what she made of it until she turned to him. "I love your car, it suits you."

"Old-fashioned?"

At that, Belle shook her head. "Classic."

"Why, thank you."

"Can I drive?" Belle asked.

Gold fixed her with a stern look, "Keep dreaming."

Never fooled by Gold's attempts to intimidate, Belle flippantly told him, "When I beat you, I want to drive."

Gold gave her a sly look. "Oh, Miss French, _if_ you ever beat me, I'll hand over the title."

Belle only laughed as he opened the garage door and drove them into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Gold pulled up beside the small apartment building, masking his disappointment that while several streets had lost power, Belle's block had been spared. Had she been caught without power he would have invited her into his home, let her stay in one of the spare rooms until the grid was restored.<p>

Beside him, Belle looked up from her cell phone. "Oh, good, the power's still on. I was worried I'd have to get dressed in the dark for work tomorrow."

"You're lucky. A few years ago my house had no power for days during a winter storm." Gold told her. He suspected that Regina might have had something to do with the delay, but he'd never voiced the thought on the off-chance that she might be innocent.

Belle did not remark on his comment, instead she slipped her cell phone into her purse and gathered her things. "Do you want to come upstairs?"

Gold blinked, surprised at the invitation but damned if he was going to decline. "Lead the way, Miss French."

Minutes later, Belle quietly lead Gold through the defunct lobby where Charles Allen slept behind the desk. Gold didn't like that; here this man was meant to prevent uninvited people from entering the building, but while he slept anyone could stroll in and rob the tenants.

Gold watched Belle as she walked in front of him toward the bank of elevators - she was so pretty, so tempting and so damn vulnerable, tiny thing that she was. She could be robbed - _or worse!_ - with him sleeping on the job.

That couldn't happen.

He made a mental note to see about ousting Mr. Allen in favor of someone more alert at the very least. Perhaps Dove might like the job; he could keep an eye on Belle for him, keep him informed of her taking on any...overnight guests. He tensed at the thought.

The elevator ride up to the third floor was short and silent.

Gold followed Belle down a short hallway and then through a chipped red door, and with two steps forward, he found himself in her home.

His eyes took everything in once she turned on the overhead light, hungry for hints of her private life. In the months of their acquaintance, Gold had occasionally wondered about the little flat that Belle called her own. He'd pictured it several different ways, ranging from an eclectic bohemian jewelbox to a layout akin to Victoria's Secret, all pink and gold trim, filled with books rather than lingerie - though Belle's preferences in that regard had certainly crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit.

What he hadn't expected was a near-empty space with nary a stick of furniture and freezing inside. There was a faded plum loveseat set before a low ottoman clearly used as a makeshift coffee table, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall with a long crack bisecting the screen, and a patterned chair near the window with several books stacked beside it on the floor.

Nothing else.

There were no pictures hanging on the stark white walls, no potted plants, no decorative rugs or bowl of goldfish as he'd pictured for her. Near the tiny kitchen there was a folding card table with a tube vase and lone red flower tucked within, and two mismatched chairs, though one had an amount of clean folded laundry resting atop its seat.

It seemed that Belle didn't entertain much.

"I'd thought you lived here for some time, Miss French." He began, voicing his confusion.

Belle glanced away from the little mirror she'd pulled from her purse, alternately smoothing and fluffing her hair back into some semblance of sanity after the wind and rain had done its damage. She looked around, seeing what he was seeing and wondered what he must think of her.

"I have, I just haven't put much of anything toward decorating. I'm saving all my pennies for something big."

Gold raised a brow, curiosity piqued. Perhaps he could help, and for the first time in a very long time, he didn't consider his end of things. "Care to share?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. It's top secret."

"Ah, women and their secrets." Gold remarked as Belle moved past him into the kitchen and began to prepare coffee. The kitchen was as bare as the living room, the only proof that she lived there at all being a Post-It on the counter. Apparently, Belle needed to pick up milk, cereal, eggs and apples.

"Yes, we're such a mysterious bunch."

"That you are." He watched for a moment as she set coffee and a plate of cookies on a tray. "May I help?"

"It's all right, I've got it. Cream or sugar?" She offered.

Gold shook his head, "Black is fine, thank you."

A few minutes later found Gold as content as could be, stripped of his coat and suit jacket, seated on Belle's plum love seat and pleased that she'd chosen to sit with him rather than in the patterned reading chair near the window. Though cold, it was pleasant to be with her there in her home, and he told her so. "This is very nice."

Belle nodded her agreement, thinking he only meant the brew . "Isn't it? I'm exploring so many blends of tea and coffee, I'm practically on a liquid diet."

"You're on a _liquid diet?"_ Gold frowned and set his cup back on the tray. "You don't need to do that, you're lovely as you are."

"My father might disagree with that, but I'm not dieting, just on a little kick. This past winter it was baking. I started out making a few things for Nova's church bake sale and before I knew it I was baking everything I could until I was up to my ears in muffins and cookies."

"I've had your cookies, you've talent in the kitchen." Gold told her, recalling the cookies she'd made him at Christmas. Soft oatmeal raisin, snicker doodles with just the right amount of cinnamon dusted over top, and orange cranberry sugar cookies, a tart summery counterpoint to Maine's harsh winter.

"What about your father?" He asked, recalling her comment.

Belle took a deep breath and said the name, "Moe French." and she need say no more.

She knew that Mr. Gold was not one for loud upsets, yet she was still relieved when all he did in reaction to the news was raise a brow. "Moe French is your father..."

The woman turned her cup around and around in her hands. "I know, that was another of my secrets. Well, it's not really a secret, it's just not a connection I'm proud of." Belle shrugged. "We're not suited, are we?"

"You and he are a bit...at odds." Gold agreed quietly.

_That petty criminal spawned the world's most charming librarian? This world is too strange a place_.

"To put it lightly." Belle tried for a joke. "It would be like you having a grunge punk as a daughter."

Gold thought on that. "I never had a daughter."

A missed opportunity, and too late to try again now, but perhaps it was for the best. He couldn't stand grunge rock music.

Beside him, Belle laughed a bit. "Me neither, not yet anyway. Maybe I will tomorrow."

"You want children by tomorrow?" Gold gave her a sly grin. "It sounds like you already have plans for tonight with some lucky man, then. I wouldn't want to intrude so I'll let myself out."

Gold stood in a show to leave, but Belle grabbed his wrist, laughing, and pulled him to sit back down beside her on the loveseat. "You know I was only joking. Don't leave just yet."

Gold shifted on the sofa, looking about the bare space of her apartment, feeling the cold from her lack of reliable heat, and turned to face her fully. "Miss French, do you need anything?"

If Belle would only confide in him what she was saving her money for, if only she would ask, he would give her whatever she needed and more. Who in Storybrooke deserved his generosity, if not Belle French?

The woman seemed to consider his words. There were a million things she needed but only one thing Belle wanted from him. "Your company, Mr. Gold. Stay and watch a movie with me."

"Well-"

"You have somewhere else to be?" She challenged.

"No, I'm - all right, yes, I'll stay." He relented.

Gold resettled on the loveseat and Belle selected a film through her Netflix account.

Belle brought out a blanket from the tiny hall closet and draped it over their laps, then surprised him again when she scooted close and leaned into him. "Do you mind?" She asked. "The heating system won't be back up until tomorrow morning and I'm freezing."

Did he mind that Belle had invited him up to her apartment and cuddled into him for warmth?

Gold shook his head, "No, it's fine. May I...is this all right?" He asked as he leaned back to put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.

Belle cuddled in and tucked her head under his chin. "That's perfect." She sighed. "You make a great heater, Mr. Gold."

"I aim to please, Miss French."

Belle was quick to pull up one of her favorite films, _All About Eve_. She had watched the film many times over the years, loving the costumes, the clever dialogue, and naturally, Bette Davis's stunning delivery of the part. As Margo Channing expounded on the trials of an actress's career, Belle could hardly concentrate. How could she, with Mr. Gold wrapped around her, keeping her warm, enveloping her in the subtle scent of his cologne, with his hand stroking steadily up and down her back like she wasn't just his friend, but a companion lover?

A voice whispered through her that it could always be this way between them, that it _should_ always be this way.

_Yes..._

Gold could come to see her after closing the shop; no more secret visits, no more hiding. It would just be them together, free to explore each other past the simple pleasantries of their covert friendship. She would make them dinner and coffee to share, and afterwards there would be this - him, wrapped around her, enveloping her in his scent and warmth.

Belle's eyes slipped closed, ignoring the film entirely as she pictured it, their perfect little life.

After a few visits over to her apartment, Gold would invite her to his home, that gorgeous Queen Anne on the hill. He would make her dinner, serve her wine, read her something in Gaelic, and after that, he would have her.

Belle nestled in closer to the man, letting the fantasy play out in her mind's eye as he adjusted his hold on her, keeping her secure against him, his hand venturing further to stroke her hair as well. Belle shivered in pleasure at his soft touch, and let the fantasy unfold further.

Would Gold take her into his bedroom and spend hours in gentle exploration of her body, or would he ride her roughly against a wall, bruising her and glorying in the claw marks she would leave up and down his back? Or better yet, why wait until they were at his house when he could take her, right here, right now on the sofa?

Belle relished the scenario and shifted just slightly, pressing her thighs together. _Oh, yes_. She imagined the hand stroking through her hair to slip lower, under her shirt, to her waist so that he could guide her to move over him, until she was straddling his lap. He would kiss her, truly kiss her, and from there his hands would strip her of her clothing and then of all sense as he touched her, ten wicked fingertips playing over her flesh until she shattered atop him.

As Belle slipped to sleep in her heated fantasy, Gold found a slow rhythm, stroking his hand up and down her back before raising his hand to touch her hair. He sighed in contentment, as peaceful as he'd been in an age. She was a soft weight against him, the mingling scents of her shampoo and perfume drifting over him and lovesick fool that he was, he hoped her scent would cling to his shirt after he left her apartment.

How long had it been since he'd had this? The warmth of a woman nestled against him, the intimacy of just holding another person...he knew it wasn't healthy, what he had done to himself over the years. He was broken. Something inside of him had surrendered years ago, given up on the idea of happiness because he didn't believe he deserved a second chance.

The man had closed himself off from others, pouring his focus into his businesses. It wasn't about amassing wealth and power, being the big fish lording over a small pond - it was about finding ways to ignore the wound in his chest. Business had been his solution, the perfect way to barricade himself from other people.

It was constant; unending in its need for precise wording on paper, each transaction a precise puzzle built on _quid pro quo_ and integrity between two parties.

Gold had spent the past two decades feeding this obsession to distract from his past, and though Storybrooke was a quiet, sleepy little town, he had ferreted out every business opportunity that he could.

Buildings for sale, contracts and leases that had lead to favors, the east coast niche of antique dealing and the routes to buy, sell and trade throughout the country.

Now, though, it was Belle moving into the void he'd carried for so long. She was so lovely, so lively and kind.

The man hadn't been able to hide from the feelings she stirred, the warmth inside he'd thought banished beyond recovery. _Gold wanted her._ He closed his eyes, picturing her waiting for him atop the sheets of his bed, wet and willing, wearing nothing but the topaz earrings he'd gifted to her.

Suddenly curious, Gold carefully pulled her hair back, satisfied to see that, yes, she was wearing the earrings now.

But the woman was alseep and he was awash with guilt. He couldn't do this, think of her that way while she slept beside him, so vulnerable and open. It was far too tempting: he could kiss her so softly that she'd never even know, he could let his hand wander to stroke her breasts or thighs...

But how sick would it be to violate her that way? How sick was he to even think of such things?

He needed to leave.

Gold moved, shifting under her and taking his arm from around her shoulders. "Miss French, I must go."

Belle woke and stretched her arms out before her. "Oh, must you?" She asked through a yawn.

"Afraid so, any longer and I'll fall asleep too." Gold replied as he retrieved his cane and stood from the sofa.

"Speak for yourself, I wasn't asleep."

"No, you were just resting your eyes and breathing deeply. And talking to yourself." He teased.

"I was not!"

"Mmm..."

"All right, fine. Get going, but before you go take some of these with you." Belle slipped into the dark corner of her kitchen and reappeared just as quickly with a plastic container of fresh muffins - blueberry, strawberry-banana and apple cinnamon. "Just what the doctor ordered. Take with milk or tea twice a day to relieve irritability stemming from job-related stress."

He raised a brow. "And who says I'm stressed?"

"I'm sure keeping the town on its toes can wear on you after awhile."

Gold took the container from her after pulling on his jacket and then his coat. "Thank you. You're always feeding me."

Belle walked him to the door. "Well, someone should be looking after you."

Gold shrugged, thinking on that. "Ah. Not for some time now. Good night Miss French, I'll see you soon."

Belle watched as he moved downstairs and out into the night.

* * *

><p>Gold stepped into the house, grateful that the grid was intact on his side of town. Limping about in the dark had no appeal. Locking the door behind himself, he set his keys and the Tupperware container on the kitchen counter. Briefcase and coat secured in the narrow hall closet, Gold reentered the kitchen and pondered the treats Belle had sent home with him.<p>

One dozen large muffins, four of each flavor - blueberry, apple cinnamon and strawberry-banana. He'd thanked her for them and remarked on her habit of bringing him food. If it wasn't a new tea blend she'd found then it would be lunch to share in the back of his shop; it must be as she said, that she liked looking after him. Perhaps she was in the midst of her own infatuation.

He would know, he'd been harboring feelings for her for several months now. It had been too easy to fall for her, though he couldn't see what she saw in him...if anything. He must be humoring himself. More like he was reading too much into a few kind gestures from his friend, feeding himself desperate hope where there was none. Gold knew she cared, he'd made that easy enough for her because she never had cause to see his dark side. He was only ever pleasant and polite with her, opening himself up to her offer of genuine friendship.

Now her father...that was a different story, how had he not known of their relation?

Gold shook his head and chose an apple cinnamon muffin from the container, pairing it with a cup of milk at the kitchen table. It didn't matter to him who her father was. For as long as he had known Belle, he had thought of them as two separate people who just happened to share a common enough last name, and he would go right on thinking just that.

Gold took a bite of the muffin, relishing the moist cake and the subtle sweet spice. Belle was such a talent in the kitchen but he had yet to return any of her favors. He should invite her over for lunch, why not? She'd invited him to spend a few hours at her home, so there was nothing to stop him from doing the same now. He took another bite and thought on that. He could invite her over, cook her something wonderful and then take her right on the kitchen counter-

No, no, that wouldn't do.

_Not on her first visit, that is_. Gold smirked to himself.

_The bedroom_, he decided. _Yes_. His bedroom for their first time. He could not carry her inside, damn his leg, but he could guide her into his room, he could lay her down, undress her slowly and pour every year of his experience into loving her because Belle was a woman who so deserved to be loved. He knew how to please a woman and he would double, triple his efforts to please Belle. To have her panting, writhing, screaming, either beneath him or atop him, _oh yes_.

Yes, he could please her...but then what?

After they were sated of their passions and curiosity, what then? She would return to her library and he to his shop...he could see no future for them beyond that. Maybe they would carry on their affair in secret for a few weeks but the dirty thrill of it would wear off quickly for her. She would want more than he could give, it was only natural for a young woman in her prime; she would want marriage and children, just not with him.

It would only be a matter of time before Belle felt the urge to move on to something, someone, who could provide her with a real future.

What use would she have for him? He would just be a mistake made on the road to her happy ending.

The muffin Belle had made for him was suddenly bitter, its flavor fading to ashes in his mouth. Gold threw what remained of it in the trash and limped off to bed.


	11. Sketches

After Mr. Gold left her apartment, Belle looked over the space and tried to see it through his eyes. Her faded furniture, so cheap and mismatched. Her lack of decorations. He hadn't insulted her but his question had embarassed her a little. Belle had been in the apartment for years, but to him it must've looked like she'd only just moved in that week.

Well, he hadn't seen her bedroom.

_Pity about that_. Belle smiled slyly to herself. _Maybe next time._

She leaned against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other as she took in the sight of her room. A nightstand to the right of her bed housed her jewelry box. Mr. Gold's earrings and her mother's necklace were surrounded inside by cheap costume jewelry, all she could ever afford, and real gems had never been a priority anyway.

Beside the box was an alarm clock, and then beside that was a stack of three novels she'd checked out for herself: _The Hunger Games, The Catastrophist_ and _The_ _Merry Muses_, last checked out by a certain Mr. Gold himself. Stupid, but she'd kept it to herself after his return, running her fingertips over his scrawled signature on the check-out card in the back of the book every time she opened it to read a poem.

Decorations adorned her walls. A corkboard covered with candid pictures, group selfies taken with her friends throughout the years; a colorful Mardi Gras mask; a framed print of a prairie landscape was hung over her bed; and just for kicks, she'd lined her window with a string of gold Christmas lights.

Her bed was covered with an inviting burgundy comforter and several puffed pillows. It was a lonely bed. Belle hadn't had a man in over a year and she worried that loneliness was starting to show.

Hell, she'd practically climbed into Mr. Gold's lap as soon as they'd sat down to the film. She had to have made him uncomfortable in some way. Given that he was so formal, he must have only agreed to heat her out of pity and then changed his mind once it breached his sense of modesty.

It wasn't as if he'd read her mind and known she'd been imagining him taking her on the sofa, after all, but something must have triggered his departure aside from the late hour.

Perhaps he just wanted to get on back to his own house, that mansion with the audacious color. The proof of her poverty might have warned him away, but Belle knew the truth. It had to have been the revelation of her parentage. Her father was a liar and a cheat.

And Belle was his only child.

It was a close connection, no matter that she had made an effort to distance herself from the man; Moe French was still her father, and Mr. Gold knew that now. God only knew what he thought of her now that he possessed that knowledge.

"Sins of the father," Belle grumbled before she put herself to bed.

She was restless that night, and for several nights following.

* * *

><p>A new urgency in her work schedule kept Belle and Gold apart for over two weeks after the night of the storm. Game of Thorns had come calling, with the shop coming up too short to cover its bills and the wages of the few other workers they had.<p>

It had fallen to Belle again and, doormat that she was, she had gone on a mad scramble for money. She'd worked the library, the flower shop, she'd worked a few shifts in the kitchen of Granny's and the Sweet Tooth bakery.

Shane had caught her after she'd paid the last damn bill for Game of Thorns and ensured that the other two workers' paychecks wouldn't bounce on deposit. She'd been walking back to her apartment, her feet sore from standing and rushing all over Storybrooke, her body tired, her belly growling, resenting her deadbeat father, her own weak nature where he was concerned, resentful of her girlfriends for their mundane problems, resentful of Mr. Gold for his being so changeable and just angry at the whole world.

Shane had chased her down the street, approaching her to ask after a new flower order for his store, but on catching her mood, knew that Belle needed a friend more than she'd needed a customer. His order could wait.

The man was charming, and so he'd charmed Belle into taking him up to her apartment. He'd forced her to sit and rest on the loveseat while he made dinner for them to share. The man wasn't a gifted cook, but it didn't take a genius to boil noodles.

Soon, he'd set her card table for two, and served her before serving himself. Catching sight of the coiled silk flower she'd left in a tube vase, it looked like they were on a date.

"Just like high school, remember when I took you to the Olive Garden? I was so nervous."

Belle shook her head, knowing his hope that a pleasant memory would dispel her present worries.

Damn Shane if it wasn't working.

Belle smiled. "You almost spilled my Coke that night."

"You would have been nervous too, given the situation." He reminded her. "But I got a kiss that night from the cutest girl in school."

Good times, so long ago now. Most of the people they'd known in high school had moved away or married, were raising children or building lucrative careers. It seemed that even among those who had stayed in Storybrooke, Belle was the only one floundering and it wasn't _fair_.

It wasn't fair that her father, her damn father, was so determined on holding her back. If it wasn't for him, Belle wouldn't be so pitiful, holed up in a bare apartment, constantly struggling to make ends meet and in love with the richest bastard in town.

Why was it that _everything_, everything she wanted seemed so far out of reach?

But Shane didn't know of her connection to Mr. Gold, no one did, and she could hardly confide that frustration to him now. Belle took a deep breath and tried not to let it sound like the depressed sigh it truly was.

It would be all right when she could see Mr. Gold again, she knew it would. The man was a reprieve from her troubles in the real world, she craved the peaceful time alone with him like a drug, and she needed her fix.

Shane nudged her foot under the table as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

"You're up and down town, running yourself ragged looking for work. When will things even out for you?" He asked. His eyes were warm, he was concerned for her. All her friends were.

Belle shrugged and let out a slight groan. It was different for Shane. He'd inherited his business after his father died, leaving him holding the reigns of a company that he'd been a part of since high school. Their family jewelry store had already been firmly established and stable, with other locations throughout the state.

Belle tried not to begrudge Shane his position, especially since he'd only taken over when his father's cancer had overwhelmed the man, but it was difficult to delve into her struggle with someone who hadn't had to share it.

"My plan is to stay with the library until Mullins leaves. Once the library has been open for about a year, I should be put in charge of it. When I'm full time, I'll have regular hours and I can stop all the odd jobs, and that includes working at Game of Thorns."

Shane sipped at the wine he'd brought over for dinner, a strong red, though Belle didn't know much about wine. It was all sour grape juice to her, no matter red or white or whatever year it'd been bottled. She didn't care. She was just grateful for his gift of alcohol.

"And what'll happen to the shop?" He asked.

Belle shrugged, careless, because she truly didn't care for the shop. "Without me to lean on, the place will probably shut down in a matter of months. It started that I would help out once a week, you know, check on inventory and the books, but dad has just gotten worse, and now I'm scrambling just to keep it open. I don't know why I've let it get this far. I have a hard time saying no when dad asks for help. He's such a bastard, he always brings up my mother."

Shane tensed. "I'm sorry. I'd buy the shop if I could afford it, but with the economy the way it is, I'm struggling to keep the whole chain from dipping under."

Belle knew that, and she didn't want her friend to feel obligated to swoop in and save her. That was Shane, though, a knight ready to save every damsel in town in spite of his private life.

"I'd never ask you to do that. You have your own stores to worry over, and you don't know anything about flowers anyway." She teased him. "Once I'm secure, I'll let the chips fall where they may. It won't be two months before Mr. Gold closes in and shuts it down. He won't take my father's excuses, he's stronger than I am."

Shane nodded. His father had dealt with Mr. Gold for years, and he had spotted him in his best black at the funeral, paying his respects. He remembered that day too well. Belle had been with him, holding his hand, and Marcus had been there too, trying to be strong for them both even though Marcus had cried heavily because he'd loved Shane's father like his own.

There had never been cause to mention it, but when Shane had approached Mr. Gold after the funeral, after being thrust into his father's position and facing a horrible new world without his father in it, Mr. Gold had done the most unexpected thing.

"Your father was a good man," he'd said. "I see a lot of him in you. I understand that it will be a transition with you finding your feet at the helm. I'll forgo the rent on your shop in town for three months in exchange for a foot in the door of the world of gemstones."

Shane had been very grateful for this boon. It had been both a tribute to his father and a very generous favor to him. Gold's entrance into the gem market had been such a trifle that it had barely registered as a trade. Shane had benefitted from both ends of the exchange, the rare deal that hadn't strictly gone in Mr. Gold's favor.

"You're right." He agreed. "Mr. Gold is a stone cold businessman. He only cuts favors for a few people in town and Moe French will never be one of them. Not after, well, you know, the _incident_."

The incident in question had to do with her father, on one of his classic whiskey benders, finding his way into the mayor's backyard one night and ripping up flowers, bushes and breaking off a branch of her apple tree, not to mention scaring her son with his hollering rant. Mr. Gold had happened to be in the mayor's house at the time and had come out to stop him, receiving a black eye for his trouble. Mayor Mills had seen to it that Belle's father was nearly locked away for assault, public intoxication and destruction of private property, but something had stayed her hand, and luckily Moe had never so much as approached the Mayor's street again.

Belle nodded, remembering it very well. She'd been sure her petition for the library would be rejected the second the mayor laid eyes on her last name, but in the end it hadn't been the mayor's decision. Mr. Gold hadn't known until she'd told him their relation.

Mr. Gold knew who she was connected to and, despite their friendship, deep down Belle feared it would only be a matter of time before he ended things with her because of that. Mr. Gold wouldn't be the first friend that her father had cost her.

"I hope he does," Belle said. "I hope Mr. Gold shuts it down the day I take over the library."

"He'll snap it up and something else will be in it's place by the next month." Shane agreed. "So, you'll be better off by this summer, you think?"

Belle nodded. "By this summer, I _pray_."

In a very twisted way, Belle's prayers would be answered.

Shane lifted his glass and Belle tapped hers against it in a cheers salute. "I am running ragged and I'm so sick of it, Shane. It's like, I'll get ahead and as soon as I do, someone from Game will call and let me know that the money for the shop bills has disappeared, or their paychecks won't go through at the bank. So I have to go over and pitch in just to make up for whatever my father screwed up or stole - oh, excuse me, _borrowed_." She amended bitterly.

Shane grit his teeth at her words. He'd known her father was a cheat, it had never been a secret, even back when they'd met in high school. But enough was enough - Belle had been stifled for years because she loved the man, and at what cost to herself?

He reached across the table to take her hand in his. How was it that a girl so small had taken on such big burdens?

"Belle, I've loved you for years, you know that. You've done an amazing thing, getting the library opened, I mean I still don't know how the place went from being just another citizen petition to open to the public in only a few months. But it's not fair that you have to work your hands to the bone for someone who couldn't care less."

Shane's words were home truths, she knew, but they still hurt. Her father was a mess, and though he caused her no end of frustration, she remembered how good things used to be. Belle still loved him, he was the only family she had left. Damn her tender heart.

"I know. I just want things to be different." Belle said quietly.

"Is that what you're really working toward? A vision of life where it's all different? Where your dad gets his life together, where you have the library and everyone is happy?"

"You sound like Dr. Hopper." Belle muttered around a mouthful of meatballs.

Shane paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "You're in therapy?"

"Not really." Belle shook her head. "I mean, a few years ago I scheduled a family therapy session for my father and I...but dad didn't show up-"

"Big surprise."

"-so Dr. Hopper and I started talking. He was the one who advised me to move out, he said that putting some distance between us would be the healthy thing to do. But getting out on my own brought on all of my own bills, stretching my budget, and then Game needed more and more help, and now here we are." Belle huffed.

Shane hated seeing her like this, all because she lacked the nerve to refuse her waste of a father. "Come on, Belle, you're only here because you can't cut ties from daddy. I mean, imagine what you could do without him weighing you down. Hell, you could get some decent furniture in here for a start."

Belle frowned at his mentioning her bare apartment. Perhaps she should go out and splurge on a few pictures for the walls if only to stop the annoying comments.

She hated it, but there was nothing in her that was strong enough to cut off her only remaining family. "I know. But you of all people know what it's like to lose someone before the issues between you can be resolved. I'll give up on the flower shop, but I can't give up on my father."

"That was a low blow, bringing up my dad." Shane told her, but there was no anger in his voice. "They're apples and oranges."

"Funny you should mention fruit." Belle snarked.

"Hmm?"

"Our dessert of course." She winked. She was desperate to change subjects from her family and financial struggles, and sweets were the perfect thing to distract her friend. "You made me a delicious dinner, so I can handle the dessert. I'm thinking fruit with chocolate and caramel drizzle, or you can just dip it in the cream."

"Strawberries and cream? That's the sexiest dessert. Belle, you're trying to seduce me." Shane deduced, his voice growing deeper.

Belle shrugged. "Maybe just a bit."

"I'm all yours, whatever you need." He took her hand again, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You know that."

"Thank you. Do you want to stay and watch a film?"

"That depends, will you wear that nightie I got you for your birthday?" Shane asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Belle swatted his arm. "You are so bad!"

"Would it be better if I said please?"

She eyed him, draining her wine. "It's a start."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Belle woke when Shane rolled over in bed next to her. He'd thrown an arm over her waist and, in his half-asleep state, pulled her close and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to inhale her scent.<p>

Breathing her in, Shane opened his eyes, raised himself onto an elbow and looked down at her. "Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second."

Belle rolled onto her back to face him. She lifted a hand and touched his face, stroking through his dark hair, absently tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "It's all right. Thank you for staying. I just...needed someone to hold me, I guess. Is that wrong?"

Shane dropped down onto her, pillowing his head on her breast as she went on stroking through his hair. The smooth satin of her gifted nightie was heated by her skin, it was black just like his shirt and boxer briefs. They often did that, matching their clothes without even trying.

"No. It's all right. I'm here for whatever you need, Belle, you know that." Shane loved lazy mornings in bed, resting against a warm body, being pet like a sleepy, spoiled dog. But he was a dog with responsibilities. "I'd stay here all day if I could, but I have to go to work."

"I know. I'm working tonight in Granny's kitchen."

Shane raised his head. "They've got you scrubbing dishes back there?"

"Yes." Belle closed her eyes. "Shane?"

"Hmm?"

"I want Mr. Gold to step in and close the shop. Today. I wouldn't fight him to try keeping it open, I'd let him have it. Without the shop, without me to use as a crutch, maybe my father will get his life together. Maybe things will be better."

"It could happen." Shane told her quietly.

He didn't believe that for one second. Moe wouldn't turn his life around just because the flower shop, his main source of cash, was out of the picture. He'd already used every trick there was to exploit Belle for whatever gain he could, and he'd never stop. He'll just keep sniffing around for cash, and it'll only get worse once Belle has the library to herself.

Shane knew this, and he was sure that, deep down, Belle knew it too. She was grasping at a false hope to keep from losing hope all together.

Belle sighed beneath him.

"I need to go."

"I know. Shane, just a few more minutes?" She asked. It was a plea, and he couldn't deny her comfort when she needed it. Hell, that's why he was in her bed, after all.

"All right. Just a few more."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later found Belle walking with her arm looped through Shane's, heading back toward the apartment he shared with Marcus. He'd texted the other man the night before to let him know he'd chosen to stay with Belle, and again before they left to let him know to expect them both shortly. Marcus had texted back, asking that they come see him at his store instead.<p>

Even as early as it was, not yet nine, Marcus had greeted them happily from under the hood of the Mustang once they neared his storefront's garage.

He'd only opened his auto-parts store for about a month, but business was already doing well. He was his own boss, and the time not spent in the store was spent tinkering with the dream machine. He'd made as many adjustments as he could to the engine to ensure it would run smoothly, the only things left to attend to were largely cosmetic.

"We can't take her out just yet. Give me another month, and she'll be ready." Marcus said on greeting them.

"I can't wait, it already looks amazing." Belle smiled. She didn't know much about cars, but anyone could see that Marcus was a master at work, the Mustang would be his pride and joy.

"Thanks, babe." He said, coming in close and kissing her cheek, shooting Shane a mischievous look as he did so.

It was a game they played when around any of the women in their circle of friends, trying to make each other jealous by fawning all over the females. Ruby especially enjoyed the extra male attention, never mind that it was just for show.

"When it's finished, that front seat will be just for you, Belle." Marcus had gently backed her up against the hood of the car, leaning over her, for all appearances priming himself to take her on top of the vehicle. That was a fantasy of his, but he doubted Belle would indulge him. "Shane can catch the bus."

Very familiar with their flirty games, Belle drew her arms about Marcus's neck, letting him twirl her and set her back on her feet. "I'd hate to come between you boys."

"Come between us? Now there's a thought." Marcus grinned nastily and, as Shane watched, slipped his hand down to rest lightly on the curve of her rear.

"You're filthy, Marcus." Belle sneered, pulling out of his light hold. He was as harmless to her as Shane, she knew, but his innuendos could often cross the line.

"You love it." He called after her as she rolled her eyes and said goodbye to the pair, blowing them kisses as she doubled back in the direction of her apartment.

Distracted as she was, thinking over the errands and chores she needed to finish before her shift at Granny's, Belle didn't realize that Gold had opened his shop and seen everything.

* * *

><p>It was another few days before Gold was visited by Belle, and in all truth he was grateful for the extended break from her company after seeing her walking with Shane, their arms linked for the town to see.<p>

The woman was his friend, she was his pleasure and his pain. He had long ago learned how to exist in the world with pain. He got on as easily as he could with a broken heart. The pleasure her company brought him far outweighed the torture of knowing she had a man in her sheets.

Gold did the only thing in his power to do. He did his best to put it from his mind.

With the chime of the bell, Mr. Gold set his latest tinkering aside and emerged into the shop proper from behind the curtain. He'd had his share of customers already, the day being busier than usual. So far he'd sold a crystal compass, a fountain pen, pawned a bracelet and dealt with an art collector from Vermont who was interested in one of Gold's paintings held only for serious bidding.

When he saw that it was Belle approaching the counter, he could hardly wait to tell her about his day. _Nothing has to change_, he reassured himself. _We can still have this._

Gold eyed the large shopping bag hanging in the crook of her arm. He hadn't been inside the store in years, but he recognized the label for Victoria's Secret. "You have my attention."

Belle shook her head. "No lingerie in here, sorry." She reached inside and began to withdraw Tupperware containers to illustrate her point.

"That's disappointing."

"You won't think so after you have one of my sandwiches."

Gold was content as he dug into the sandwich that Belle had brought over, truly she had missed her calling as a chef. Belle had taken his compliment in stride, making a crack about being too kind to put Granny's diner out of business.

It was just on the tip of his tongue then, an offer to repay her generosity by bringing her out for a meal, never mind her new man. They deserved time to themselves. Somewhere out of town where they could relax and enjoy each other's company without the worry of rumors erupting after they were seen sharing a table. Somewhere other than the cheap diner where the entire town came to grab a bite. He owed Belle more than iced tea and an overcooked hamburger. Champagne and oysters came to mind.

"Miss French, you've brought me lunch several times, let me take you-"

"Gold!"

Gold winced as he heard the infuriated screech coming from the shop. It wasn't Regina this time, but another woman who had reason for anger. Sighing in annoyance, Gold gestured for Belle to wait for him while he dealt with the intrusion into their meal.

Belle was well accustomed to this by now, his polite request that she remain out of sight while he dealt with business. She was his secret and didn't mind it much, especially when it gave her the opportunity to explore the back room of the shop when he left her alone.

She gulped down the last of her Sprite and set her can aside, tuning out the abuse hurled at Mr. Gold - apparently whoever the woman was couldn't make her repayment for the third month in a row and he had called in her collateral. Belle couldn't blame him - she was very careful with her money to avoid just such a fix. Her eyes fell on a book at his desk and she couldn't help her curiosity as she flipped the cover.

Belle's brows hit her hairline as she paged through his sketches and she found familiar faces. There was Mayor Mills seated behind a desk with several papers on the surface before her. The detailing was precise; her dark eyes were as fierce on the page as they were in life, her smirking mouth the only color in the sketch, a deep berry. Belle supposed he preferred her in that shade of lipstick.

The next few pages showed the woman, some were cartoonish, complete with word bubbles of Mayor Mills barking orders around town, while others were simple, showing her posing in a chair or tending to her beloved apple tree. In one picture, Mayor Mills was dressed in her signature black, her form dissolving into a flock of ravens.

The following pages showed Dr. Whale, his expression deeply serious in his scrubs and white lab coat, then smiling in a more casual leather jacket and jeans. Sharing the page with him was Dr. Hopper, umbrella in hand and Pongo leashed at his side.

He'd drawn Marcus standing beside the still-white Mustang, his hands black with engine grime and a triumphant smile on his handsome face. Shane was on the next page, though Mr. Gold must've had a difficult time drawing him, as his face was scribbled out, some with an X drawn over half-finished sketches.

There was Leroy hunched at Granny's counter over a beer, and there again toward the bottom half of the page, hefting his pickaxe and lighted helmet, his expression eager and determined to strike riches in the mines just outside of town.

A page was dedicated to Ruby, showing her in various stances at the diner: full shots of her holding a tray of milkshakes, jotting down an order on her stenopad, then bussing a table. Belle couldn't help but notice that Mr. Gold had used some artistic license by adjusting her waitress uniform; he'd lowered her hemline and closed the top of her shirt so it didn't show quite so much skin, which Belle was thankful for. He'd drawn Ruby with pointed ears and a furry tail coming out the back of her skirt in one of his funny cartoon-style doodles.

And then there was Belle herself.

Belle's eyes widened. Gold had pencil sketched her with striking detail, wearing one of her favored outfits that she immediately recognized: a slim shirtdress cinched with a leather belt and her matching espadrilles. Like the other pages that filled the sketchbook, Gold had drawn her in a number of ways, from the detailed pencil sketch to cartoon doodles and then, beautifully detailed drawings colored with map pencils and oil pastels.

Then there she was behind the circulation desk, a word bubble declaring, "Welcome to the Storybrooke Library, my name is Belle!"

There she was in a pale blue dress, looking down demurely with a book in her hand.

In one, Belle held the Egyptian scarab in her hands before her with her eyes closed, offering it to whoever viewed the drawing. Gold had crowned her with a serpentine headpiece and to her surprise, she couldn't discern herself as wearing any clothing in the drawing, though it was difficult to tell as the scarab took up so much space before her as to dominate the page. Perhaps that was Mr. Gold's intent, for her to be assumed naked behind the scarab. She wasn't offended by such a thing - the drawing was beautiful and so tastefully done.

The next was in colored pencil and showed her with a Grecian necklace she didn't recognize draped about her neck, a toga of pale lavender draping her body, showing her curves.

Belle quickly pulled out her cell phone and captured the sketches. They were wonderful, all of them, and she felt chagrined to have never known of Mr. Gold's talent.

The only sketches that concerned her were the last few pages that showed a boy Belle didn't recognize, but then again she didn't know every child in town. Maybe he was one of Mary Margaret's students, or maybe one of the other teachers would know his face. Belle wondered why Mr. Gold would draw pictures of children at all, let alone of one boy over and over again, but the simplest answer was usually the right one: he was practicing.

"Miss French?"

Belle turned around, closing his sketchbook as she did to hide that she'd been snooping. His drawings were beautiful, though if he'd meant to share them, he would have by now, she knew.

But she hadn't been fast enough, the look on the man's face was proof enough of that. Belle was glad that he didn't look angry with her. Instead, he looked nervous, caught-out, and sudden color was flooding his face, dark stains over his cheekbones.

"You saw my book..."

"Yes, I'm sorry for looking. I saw it lying there and I thought it was a novel."

Mr. Gold looked down at the floor, his grip tight on the handle of his cane. When he spoke, his voice was hesitating and small. "You saw, then? What I've drawn?"

Belle took a step forward. "Yes. Mr. Gold, I didn't know you were so talented."

He lifted his head. "Talented?"

"Yes, of course!" Belle took up his sketchbook again. "The detail, the different materials you've used. I mean, me, I can't draw a straight line. No, I can't even draw a crooked line!" She scoffed. "But _you_, Mr. Gold, you've drawn us so precisely, and in all these different styles. I could recognize almost everyone, you're a real artist."

Mr. Gold straightened his posture, relief in his expression but his eyes still held embarrassment, both at her praise and at being found out.

_I should have kept it in the safe_, he thought. He hadn't meant for anyone to see his work in the pages. He felt vulnerable, now, something he could hardly stand.

"I'd thought you'd be upset."

"Why would I be upset that you've drawn my picture? If anything I'm upset that you've kept this talent all to yourself." Belle told him, impressed beyond measure.

Was there anything that Mr. Gold couldn't do?

"Well, I...it's nothing serious. Just a side hobby." He dismissed.

"Well it might not be serious to you, but it's wonderful to me. Will you draw my picture?" She asked eagerly.

Gold raised a brow at her request. "What, now? I could do a sketch, but there isn't time for a proper drawing."

Belle checked her watch. She had to get back to the library within ten minutes. "You're right, I have to be getting back to work. But don't think I'll just forget about this. You owe me a drawing the next time I come round."

Gold gave her a small smile. "And you'll get it, Miss French."

* * *

><p>The next day, Belle was happy to see Mr. Gold enter the library. She smiled in his direction but she was wrapped up with a short line of check-outs. He nodded to her and disappeared into the stacks.<p>

Belle went after him, feeling a bit giddy to chase him like a teenager to their secret spot. She found him waiting for her with a book tucked under his arm, standing at the corner of non-fiction and reference.

"What've you got there?" She asked, meaning the book he held.

Gold held it out to show her. "Gemstone reference. I have a piece up for restoration and need this to exact the difference between garnet and ruby. They look about the same to me, but I need to get it right."

Belle nodded, "Of course. Is it a piece I've seen before?"

He shook his head. "You have not."

Together, they emerged from the endless bookshelves and headed to the main desk. Belle batted her lashes at him, flirting. "And may I come by the shop to see whatever it is?"

Gold leaned in and slid a folded piece of paper across the desk to her hand. "Come tonight. I haven't forgotten what I owe you, Miss French."

Mr. Gold took the book and left the library. Belle looked down at the paper he'd given her, and smiled. It was one of his drawings, more a doodle, really, of Belle on a pair of roller skates speeding down the street. She loved it and tacked it to the wall in the office she shared with Mrs. Mullins.

The funny drawing was Gold's way of offering her a taste of what was to come that night.

_All right, Mr. Gold, I'm ready for more._

* * *

><p>Evening came, and Belle made straight for Mr. Gold's pawn shop. He smiled thinly to see her come in, and motioned for her to follow him. Gold held the curtain to let Belle pass into the back room before him. "I thought to draw your face, if I may. For a start. I can do a full form sketch if you'd prefer. Bodies are easier."<p>

He was surprised at how relaxed he'd felt after Belle had found her way into his art. He'd always been able to draw, and had put his observations about town to paper in a pleasant distraction when he needed a break from surly clients.

As his feelings for Belle began to grow, so too had his collection of sketches. Now that she knew of his talent with a pencil, he felt relieved and proud, somehow. Yes, proud. She was impressed with his antique collections and his skills.

He stopped short of letting himself feel superior to her man - going down that road would only darken his mood.

"Mr. Gold, draw me like one of your French girls." Belle ordered in a breathy voice, batting her lashes and arching her back.

Gold swallowed at her suggestive pose, feeling familiar heat beginning to rise in his chest. "You are the only French girl I know."

"You've never seen Titanic, have you?" Belle asked, disappointed that he hadn't caught her allusion.

"No. I was unattached when it hit the theaters and was spared being dragged to see it."

"Well nevermind. It was just a joke, in the movie the woman asks to be drawn naked by an artist who drew French girls that way."

Gold raised a brow, smirking at her. "Don't tempt me."

Belle put a hand over her heart, the back of her other hand against her forehead in a mockery of being scandalized by his words. "Oh, Mr. Gold, you mustn't say such things! My virgin ears are burning!"

Gold laughed at her. "I see you've been reading your share of bodice-rippers, I thought you couldn't stand them."

"You caught me. I got curious about what had the reading circle so obsessed and took a peek...which turned into three novels in the past week." She confessed, embarrassed.

Gold shook his head, "Miss French, I'm not angry. Just disappointed."

Belle faked swiping a tear from her cheek. "I am ashamed, but my depravity can't be helped." She clapped her hands together and turned to him. "Now, where do you want me?"

_Anywhere. Everywhere_._ So long as you're with me._

"Ah, right here should do." Gold guided her to a cushioned chair so that she'd be comfortable as she sat for him, then lit candles and placed them on a low shelf near to her. When he cut the florescent lights over the workroom, the effect cast her face half in the golden light and half in shadow.

Seeing her in candlelight was lovely, and pulled at his heart, but he shut out such thoughts and tried to think of her as just another subject to be drawn

Gold sat on his work stool just across from her, paper and pencil on hand to capture her.

"And if you could just look straight at me, please."

"No problem." Belle locked eyes with him, trying to hide the heat she felt rising through her chest and cheeks. Being shut in alone with Mr. Gold, candlelight casting his face half in the dark...well, Belle was sure her mind would find its way back to this scene tonight, only Mr. Gold would oblige by stripping her and drawing her in the nude before having her on the desk.

Belle was heating to the fantasy, and gave very serious thought to daring the man to remove her shirt, baring her breasts to be drawn. She shifted on the chair, pressing her thighs together.

"Just be still. And no chatter." He warned teasingly.

Belle bit her tongue to stop a smart comment, but she held still, her eyes on his as he worked, repeatedly looking from her and then back to his paper to draw. For a time, he just stared at her. Belle looked back at him. She could see a flash of heat in his eyes, but Gold blinked and returned to his work.

"There, I've finished." Gold tore the sheet from his notebook and passed it to her. "What do you think?"

Belle took the drawing. Gold remained seated, he did not move to turn on the lights. The candles were the only light in the room, and he preferred it this way with her.

Belle looked at Mr. Gold's drawing of her face, the play of shadow over her bone structure, the intensity he'd captured in her eyes. Inside, something broke, and Belle couldn't hold back the tears that escaped her eyes.

Surprised, Gold leaned forward. "Miss French, what's wrong? If you don't like it, let me try again."

Belle shook her head, "I just...I've never seen myself as beautiful until now." She confessed.

She had been called beautiful before, of course, by her father on a good day in the past, by her mother's choice of her name. But she hadn't believed it. She thought of herself as cute and pretty, and with the right makeup and the right clothes, she could even look sexy.

But beauty, real beauty...that had been something reserved for those who deserved it.

Gold didn't know what to say to her confession. So many words jumped to the forefront of his mind, but his throat closed and none escaped out to reassure her that _yes_, damn it, yes, she was beautiful, she was smart, she was kind and bright and wonderful and he would hunt down and kill whoever had ever made her doubt herself.

"You are. You are beautiful."

It was a hoarse whisper when it emerged, a small and strangled thing. But it was there, the barest hint of the truth he felt. Gold reached forward and touched her hand.

"Thank you Mr. Gold." Belle swiped at a tear that escaped her eye, more embarassed now than anything else. "I'm sorry for this."

Gold gave her his pocket square. "Miss French, what's wrong? If I may, you've seemed troubled the last few times I've seen you. I know you're trying to hide it. I should have asked after you sooner, but I'll ask now. What can I do?"

"Oh, it...it's nothing. Maybe I'm pregnant." Belle said in an offhand way, trying to deflect his concern for her with a joke. Her careless words had the exact opposite effect.

Gold went very still. For a horrible moment, the world went dark.

Belle with a man. Not him.

Belle with child. Not his.

"Oh, relax Mr. Gold, it's not yours." Belle jokingly reassured him, unsure of the color draining from his face.

"Belle, the truth now. Are you...?"

The use of her true name meant he was serious. He had only said it once or twice in the course of their friendship. Belle shook her head. "No, definitely not. I'd need a man for that, and who would have me? Everyone knows I come with some baggage. I only cried because I've been under some stress. Things aren't going well."

Gold took a calming breath, hoping it would settle his erratic pulse. "Things have ended with Mr. Garrison?"

"Hmm?"

Gold shook his head, "I shouldn't have brought it up, I apologize. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

Belle felt confused. "I...I haven't dated Shane since we were in high school, what are you talking about?"

"I saw you with him, some days ago. Walking arm-in-arm." Gold confessed quietly.

"That...oh, it's not what you think, Mr. Gold. Shane didn't break my heart, and there is no baby." Belle gave a pat to her flat belly. "Not his, not anyone's. It was only a joke. It's just stress, I'm telling you."

Right. Just stress, as she said. That he could understand. Only, "Dont joke with me like that again, Miss French." He warned her as he returned his papers and pencil to the desk.

"Why, worried I'd come after you for child support?" Belle went on, not realizing the turmoil she'd stirred in her friend. "No worries there, even if I was pregnant no one would believe me if I said you were the father."

Gold closed his eyes and counted to ten before turning back around to face her. A good friend, he bit his tongue and gave her a smile. He really didn't need the reminder that the idea of them together was a joke in Belle's eyes.

Best to get off this topic.

Inside, Gold shook off the minutes of tension she'd stirred in him with a careless choice of words.

Inside, he let himself feel relief that Belle was free, that by her own words, she and Shane Garrison had no claim on each other. Things were as they had always been. He could take comfort in that.

"What will you do with that drawing?"

"I'm going to frame it." Belle decided.

"You can't be serious," he scoffed. "It's hardly worth framing."

"Why do you say that? It's great."

"No, it's hardly my best work, Miss French. It's not even in color."

Belle stroked her fingertips down his suited sleeve. "You're opening the floodgates. If you're saying you can do better than this I'll be in here every night looking to be drawn or painted."

Gold smiled warmly, lifting his hand to cradle her elbow. "And you think I would object to that?"

"I think you'd object to my being a drain on your art supplies."

"I can always buy more." He dismissed. The man resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, stroke his hand up and down her back as he had that night in April. He had touched no one since then. "And it's rare that I have such a lovely subject. I know your face, I can draw you any time."

"I'd ask you to teach me, but four years of art in high school has already shown me I'm a lost cause, just like with the dancing."

"No, you're not a lost cause, your talents just lay elsewhere." Gold asserted.

It must have been her father who'd put these ideas in her head, that she wasn't intelligent, or beautiful or talented. Moe French had smothered something inside of her, tarnished her, but to Gold, Belle could light the world.

"I haven't found them yet."

"I wouldn't say that, you never know what could-"

Mr. Gold's words were cut off by the sound of the store bell, signaling a customer.

"Ah, excuse me."

Gold released her and went to the front of the shop to deal, leaving Belle alone with her thoughts.


	12. The Necklace

The sun was piercing, a bright spot of heavenly light with hell's heat to match. Maine had been experiencing a heat wave over the past week. It had kept most people indoors, the playgrounds and parks, even the patio behind Granny's was largely deserted. The people of Storybrooke were unused to the sudden heat, and it seemed that all Belle had retained from her true people was her accent, because even she felt like melting under the sun.

_I've shamed all of Australia_, Belle thought to herself as she put on her bikini. Following her bathing suit was one of her favorite sundresses, simple white cotton with an eyelet pattern. It left a fair amount of skin exposed, but what did that matter when she was only using it for a beach cover?

Ariel had called her that morning to invite her out with Marcus and Shane, their plan was to hit the beach and make a day of it, given that they all had the day off from work. Starved for fun, Belle had jumped at the invitation and had already packed a tote bag by the time Ariel had hung up her end of the line.

Now all Belle needed was a basket, and she knew just where to find one.

"Mr. Gold? Are you in?"

Being a Sunday, Mr. Gold didn't pawn, trade or sell out of the shop, but he often spent the day inside its walls to go over paperwork and such if he wasn't out collecting rent or staying in at his house.

"In the back, Miss French."

Belle followed his voice into the back of the shop, where she found him seated at the work table, bent over several lenses in a metal tube that he was looking at with a large magnifying glass.

"Oh, what're you working on?" She asked, stepping up beside him.

"These are the innards of an Orion telescope. I'm repairing it for a curator colleague of mine from New York." Gold told her, not looking up from his work. He wasn't trying to be rude, he was only so engrossed in finding the problem within that he feared looking away would interrupt the progress he'd made that morning. "I'm very close to finding the - ah! There it is." He lifted one of the internal lenses, it had a hairline crack down the middle, which was magnified by the others and so prevented a clear view. "I'll phone and let her know the problem with this..."

Gold trailed off once he finally turned to address Belle, laying eyes on her for the first time since she'd entered the shop.

A dress of snowy white hugged her petite frame, it's breezy skirt fell just to her knees, while the deep V of its neckline and the thin straps rising over her shoulders left an expanse of creamy, freckled skin open to his eyes. Beneath the pristine cotton, he could make the dark outline of a bathing suit, a simple cut bikini. Its deep violet strings rose across her shoulders, tying behind her neck. He ignored the itch in his fingers to pull at the knot.

On her feet were cheap sandals, and cheap earrings in the shape of tiny starfish dangled from her ears.

He blinked. "Miss French, you're not off for a swim in the lake, are you?"

Belle shook her head and set her bag on the work table. Inside, she had loaded the essentials: sunblock with a high SPF, a rolled towel, sunglasses and a change of clothes for later in the evening.

"No, not the lake. Ariel, Marcus, Shane and I are going to the beach. It's my first full day off in weeks, I think I've earned some fun."

Gold nodded. "No one would begrudge you that. Which beach are you visiting?"

"You know, I couldn't tell you. Ariel is going to show us where it is, apparently it's some secret beach only she and her sisters know about." Belle shrugged. "Her sisters aren't coming with us, though, it'll just be the four of us today."

_What a lovely double date_, Gold thought in irritation.

The man had no right to jealousy, he knew, but he couldn't help the tension that stirred in him when he thought back to the morning he'd watched her, first walking with Shane Garrison from her apartment and then allowing herself to be handled by Marcus.

Belle had told him she wasn't with Shane, but Gold didn't know what to make of their connection, and tried not to speculate. He dreaded what he would find if he went looking for answers.

"I wanted to ask if I could borrow that basket." Belle said, pointing to a woven wicker basket on the shelf against the wall. It would serve her purpose for the day. "I promise to bring it back the next time I see you."

"As if I could say no to you. It's all yours."

"You're a life-saver! Thank you Mr. Gold."

"It's no problem." He assured her, leading the way into the show room of the shop.

"What are the beaches like in Scotland?" She asked him suddenly.

Belle did this fairly often, asking how the places he'd been in the world compared to the weather, the food, the social atmosphere of Storybrooke. Belle knew so little else.

Gold thought a moment. "Ah, the beaches at home aren't as craggy and frigid as you might expect. Armadale Bay and Camas a'Charaig are both lovely, pure sand with wonderful views. Sandwood Bay is a national treasure. I haven't been there since..." Gold trailed off, remembering that day, but cleared his throat. "Well, it's been a long time. But we have beautiful beaches, well worth visiting if you ever make it over that way."

Belle gave a small smile, and looked down to her sandals. "I doubt that will ever happen. Listening to you is as close as I may get. But I'd rather talk to you than anyone."

"You do know I'll be here for you, any time you need to talk, don't you?" He wished she would look up at him. The man hadn't forgotten how she'd cried at a drawing and he hadn't forgotten how she'd refused to confide her true troubles to him, claiming stress instead. "Miss French-"

"What were the beaches like in Greece?" She asked, cutting him off.

Gold knew she was deflecting, but what could he do? He was hardly in a position to force secrets from her. So, he would oblige until she felt ready to confide in him, if ever.

"The Greek beaches are...blinding white sand, water clear enough to see down to the sea floor, hot wind, cloudless days. And painful sunburns." They shared a laugh at this. "I didn't care for sunblock that first day, I was too eager to get in the water. My wife was more careful..."

Gold bit his tongue as Belle's eyes widened. He had not meant to let that slip. "I didn't know you were married, Mr. Gold."

"It was a long time ago." Gold dismissed. His expression did not invited further words on that topic. She understood, and set her bag and basket on the counter.

Belle went on to ask after Greece. "What's the food like there?"

"It's delicious, if you're used to lamb, which I certainly am. Their coffee is very strong, it's perfect after a hard night of their wine." He smiled. "There was a wonderful cafe we stopped at on the way to the pantheon ruins-"

Eagerness flashed in her eyes. "The ruins? You've seen them?"

"Of course. You wouldn't go to Orlando without visiting Disneyworld, and so you can't go to Greece without seeing the beaches and ruins."

"Seeing the ruins is on my bucket list, I should probably add Disneyworld to the list too. They're both out of reach for now." Belle shrugged.

Gold considered her for a moment. He didn't know the details, but he knew that Miss French didn't have more than two nickels to her name and he was sure that her father was somehow to blame for that.

He thought of something to bring back the smile he loved best on her. "I - here, are you familiar with the Greek philosopher Axiothea of Phlius? I have a piece from that time period that you might appreciate."

"Oh, of course!" She smiled. "You know, I just finished a philosophy anthology last week."

Gold raised his brows. "I don't know how you find the time."

"Not to brag, but I can read books as quickly as you can read people."

"Seems we each have our talents, then." Gold remarked as he withdrew a jewelry tray from the glass counter case between them. He took a necklace from the tray, a thick band of gold inlaid with gemstones in a repeating pattern of onyx, amber and lapis. It was stunning in its ancient beauty, and Belle was just about to ask how he came by such a piece, when he asked, "Would you like to try it on?"

He held the necklace out before her eyes, tempting her with this jeweled snake.

"Oh, Mr. Gold, I couldn't."

"And why not?"

"It's a piece of history, if it really belonged to Axiothea...I mean, she changed the world." He couldn't be serious, suggesting she try on a piece that belonged in a museum like it was a sweater off a thrift rack.

"That she did, but she was also known for her generosity, so if she was here I'm sure she wouldn't object to sharing this with you. Besides, such jewels were worn by the scholars of the day, so I'd say that you've earned your chance to wear it."

His reasoning was sound, and her reservations were defeated. Belle smiled, conspiring with him. It almost felt like she was getting away with something, some taboo little thrill. "Well, I guess just trying it on for a minute won't hurt anything."

She reached to take it, but Gold withdrew. "May I?" He asked, his meaning plain.

Belle nodded, and Gold inclined his head for her to follow him over to a mirror - like the necklace and the scarab, it was a piece restored from another time, and had once been housed in a Victorian mansion just outside of London. Generations of house servants and aristocracy alike had looked upon themselves in the glass, and now it was their turn.

Belle stood still as Gold moved up behind her and draped the necklace forward, bringing the chain over her head and about her neck. The metal was heavy on her skin. The man's hands were careful as he lifted her hair away from the closure, resettling her curls over one shoulder rather than free down her back, leaving her opposite shoulder bare.

Instead of stepping aside, Mr. Gold remained behind her, his hands resting over her shoulders. The man's dark eyes met hers in the mirror. A soft, steady stare. Belle felt familiar heat bloom in her cheeks and over her throat at his nearness. They often spent time alone, but it was a rare thing that he would touch her, and never had the man taken such an intimate stance with her before.

She could feel her skin tightening beneath his hands, her breasts pebbling. They stared at each other in the glass, Belle's skin had gone rosy all over and Gold's eyes had taken on a distinct intensity. She could feel his hot exhale ghost over her exposed back. Her hands bunched in the skirt of her dress, fisting the fabric. He stroked his hands across her shoulders, his fingers strong on her skin, and Belle's chest lurched in a heady mix of arousal and fear. She closed her eyes under his gentle massage, biting her lip, fighting the moan building in her throat.

"There. Helen of Troy herself."

His voice had deepened, things were all too clear to Belle. She could turn around, let him kiss her, let him take this further, let him take _her_ farther...

But no.

Mr. Gold could be remembering his wife now, a woman he must have loved, and was trying to use her as a substitute.

Or...

Mr. Gold may just be feeling the summer, a rush of heat to the blood that could steer him toward any woman, and she was simply present. That had to be it. She wasn't special to him, she was just _there_.

"Oh, Mr. Gold, no one is going to war over me."

Belle broke her gaze from his in the glass, killing their moment, turning away to remove the necklace herself. She couldn't allow his hands on her again. Not when she would surrender herself so easily.

She handed the necklace back to him and moved to the counter to collect her bag and the basket. Gold returned her false smile with one of his own, taking back the jewels with all care.

"You might be surprised, Miss French."

If she heard his remark, Belle didn't answer him as she strode out of the shop.

* * *

><p>As Belle disappeared into Granny's, Gold threw the damn necklace against the wall and limped his way back into the work room. A light sweat had broken over his forehead, his mind was unfocused and he was uncomfortably, painfully aroused.<p>

_What I did...have I ruined it all?_

No.

No, Gold took a deep breath to calm his thundering pulse, and tried to think. It was no simple task. His mind was spinning with thoughts of Belle, beautiful Belle naked and waiting for him in his own bed, Belle begging him to take her in the library, Belle looking at him with those damn bright eyes and that clever smile telling him he was loved again.

The man fixed himself a glass of ice water, hoping to cool these heated thoughts. But how could he hope to, when he'd seen the arousal in Belle's eyes, felt it in the air between them?

This wasn't one of his daydreams, he had sensed Belle's wanting. As a man, he knew down to his bones that Belle had been his for the taking. All he'd needed was a sign, but she had run from him instead.

When he asked himself why, he laughed at the idiot question.

_You know why_, he chided himself. _You couldn't keep it hidden. Without a word you came on too strong - you scared her...but you also excited her._

That last bit was true, and added fuel to his flicker of hope for more than this secret friendship they shared. If Belle had been excited by his touch, then sure enough she must feel _something_ for him. Something beyond the simple care between friends.

Gold took a deep breath, rallying his strength, his determination and his courage. They couldn't go back to the way things were, not now that lust had nearly overcome them both.

_We can't go on like this. We can't, we _won't_. _

* * *

><p>Belle strode out of the pawn shop and she didn't pause in her stride until she'd entered the ladies room at Granny's and shut the door behind her, leaning her back against it, shutting out the world so that she could catch her breath and collect her thoughts.<p>

Belle took several deep breaths and speared her fingers through her hair, pulling at it when she snagged a tangle. She was overdue for a trim. Mr. Gold...he...he had held her, stroked her, his hands sure and hypnotic over her bare shoulders, her back, and his eyes...God, his eyes had been on fire, burning into her own through the glass of the mirror. And she had loved it, but his sudden intensity had frightened her out the door of his shop.

Why had she run? Why, when he'd clearly been searching her for a sign, just the slightest nod of assent, the proof that she wanted him, too?

No.

Belle knew. She'd allowed her insecurities rise to overtake her, plaguing her with the thoughts that had clawed at her for years - that she was no good, just a poor girl from the wrong side of town, Moe French's screwup daughter, who Mr. Gold couldn't have possibly been looking at for anything other than an easy lay.

Now, though, she knew none of it was true - she had tried so hard to put distance between her father's crimes and what she was now, tried to rise above the reckless choices of her youth. And Mr. Gold wouldn't think of her that way, not after all this time.

Belle moved to the sink and wet her hands, lifting them to flick cold water over the flush that glowed beneath the skin of her chest, throat and cheeks. Proof of her arousal, anger at denied satisfaction.

_Get ahold of yourself._

What might have happened, if she had given him the sign he sought, just a nod of her head or a slight lean further into his secure hold?

Such was how that silent question was answered between two animals, one male and one female in the high heat of summer. Gold might have guided her to turn around so that he could kiss her, or he might have dipped his head those precious few inches to graze her throat with his teeth...but Belle had ruined it, all of it, and where could they go from here, now that the suggestion of _more_ had been introduced between them?

Would they go on as they always had, pretending it had never happend or would Gold want to talk? Belle cringed at the idea. God knows what truth she might blurt out if Gold only brought it up to apologize and dismiss it as some heated bit of madness on his part.

A quick knock startled her out of her thoughts.

"Belle, are you in there?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, Ariel, I'm coming out."

Ariel took a step back as Belle came out and they made their way to the front of the restaurant. "Shane just pulled up. He and Marcus have everything, Ruby's just sneaking us a few extra things."

'A few extra things' turned out to be almost too much for Belle's basket.

"Here, and just a couple more sandwiches." Ruby insisted, holding them out toward the open mouth of the basket.

"Rubes, we already have a ton!" Marcus groused from his seat at the bar.

"You say that now but you'll be starving at the end of the day." Ruby reasoned, jealous that she couldn't join them on their day trip. "Besides, we need to make room for the fresh sandwiches."

"Nice to know we're your convenient garbage disposals." Shane said, taking the last sandwich and giving it a suspicious look. "They're not furry with mold on the inside, are they?"

"They're only a day old! If you don't like them, toss them to the birds."

"Thank you Ruby, this is more than generous." Ariel told her, embarassed by Shane's ungrateful joke.

"No sweat." Ruby shrugged. "Where'd you get the picnic basket, anyway?"

"Mr. Gold let me borrow it." Belle said without thinking.

"Mr. Gold? How'd that happen? I thought you hadn't spoken to him after you had breakfast with him a few months back." Ruby's reminder of the meal she'd shared with the man after his disappearance in the winter only further twisted the knife in Belle's belly.

It was too easy to bring out a believable lie. "I haven't. I just saw the basket in the window and asked if I could use it for the day. He said it probably wouldn't sell anyway so he let me take it."

Overhearing this, Granny, owner of the diner and known by no other name, stepped over to their group. She was a strong woman, and strongest in her convictions. "You watch out, Belle, Gold never gives anything for free."

"How do you mean?" Belle asked the question, but she was sure she would hear the same tired answer and Granny did not disappoint.

"I mean you don't need to make friends with a man like that - God only knows what kind of favor he'll decide you owe him for borrowing a basket."

Belle rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure to keep my distance, Granny."

Marcus wasn't in the mood to hear yet another tirade against Mr. Gold - he wouldn't have his auto store without the other man's loan, after all - when they had a day at the beach to look forward to. "All right, the Jeep's loaded. Full tank of gas, full coolers of beer and water, and thanks to the world's sexiest waitress we've got about 80 sandwiches to split between us. Lets go."

The man had summed up the situation perfectly, and so the group marched out the door, into the heat and into the sun, ready to claim their day.

* * *

><p>"Belle, you look like you got some sun already, you're all red." Marcus handed her a bottle from the cooler set between the driver and the passenger seat. "Have a water, it should cool you down."<p>

Belle smiled, glad no one had even thought to guess at the reason behind her flushed face. "Thanks, I'll drain it."

"So, Ariel, we've been riding the coastline for over an hour, where is this place?" Shane asked, hanging his arm out the window, surfing his hand against the air.

"We're still about 15 minutes away, but I promise you this will be worth the drive."

"Hey, our day off is in your hands. If we get there and it sucks, we'll never let you live it down." Marcus warned her, smiling.

"No pressure." Ariel laughed.

Thankfully, once they arrived along the stretch of shore, Ariel's secret lagoon was no disappointment - it was a secluded spot that had been overlooked by regular beach-combers, leaving it beautifully preserved, and just for them to share. A scattering of trees offered shade, and a long jetty would give them something to climb on, a point where they could drop a line and search for crabs.

Stepping out of the Jeep to look around, Shane spread his arms, a broad smile unfolding over his face. "Damn, Ariel, you weren't kidding, this is great! God, just look at it."

Ariel nudged him in the ribs. "I knew you'd all love it, my sisters and I came here all the time when we were younger, not so much after high school. We still come a few times every summer, though, and today was too perfect to resist it."

The group got to work laying out their area, eager to get everything set. Belle and Ariel laid out a wide blanket, then set the coolers on the corners to keep it from blowing away. Marcus planted big umbrellas in the packed sand while Shane brought out the portable speaker and set his music to blaring.

Moments later they were all in the water, diving, splashing and, after calling each other out, they began chicken fighting, the men standing while the women on their shoulders grappled, tumbling each other off-balance into the water.

Long hours they spent in the waves, only pausing to reapply sunscreen and drink water. Once the late afternoon came over them, the group dried off and started in on the sandwiches Ruby had loaded into the picnic basket. The bread was only a touch stale on the edges, but that was negligible in their raw hunger. Ruby had been right after all.

The basket had also been packed with containers of cookies, potato salad, sliced apples and pears, honey-roasted cashews, a vegetable tray, crackers and cheese. It didn't take long for the four of them to devour the whole feast, leaving only a few of the staler sandwiches to be tossed to the gulls that had been circling them for the past hour, hungry for scraps.

Belle tore off tiny bits of bread, watching as a few gulls clamored for it. _Spoiled birds_, she thought. Beside her, Ariel was doing the same. For a while, they were kids again, feeding birds like they had at the park, years ago.

When the bread was gone, and the gulls saw their free lunch was over, the group decided to take a rest since it was too soon to get back into the water.

"Man, I'm beat." Marcus said through a yawn. He reached over and swatted Belle on her backside. "You're heavier than you look. I call Ariel on the next chicken fight."

Belle turned and kicked him in the shin. "And you have a death wish to say something like that."

"Death by a beautiful woman...yeah, I'll take it." He shrugged.

Ariel rolled her eyes at him. "Charming friend you've got, Shane."

For his part, Shane wasn't much in the mood to tease the women. He leaned over and tugged on Ariel's fiery hair. "He's insufferable around you ladies - but what can you expect? He had a rough childhood. His dad wasn't in the picture much."

"Hey, I didn't need my dad, I shared yours for a good couple of years." Marcus reminded him.

Shane nodded, remembering the good times when his father would invite them for hunting and fishing trips. It wasn't anything they were interested in, but they'd gone along anyway to please the older man, to hopefully gain a measure of acceptance, if not celebration.

Shane yawned and laid back on the blanket to rest, and Marcus was quick to follow his lead. The men loved the sun, their skin tanning beautifully under the bright rays. Ariel laid down in the shade of the umbrella, careful of her pale skin. Belle shared her friend's light complexion, so quick to burn, and so made room for herself in the shade as well. The women shared a look, perfectly communicating their jealousy over the mens' ease under the sun.

Belle was tired. Hours of horseplay in the waves had done wonders for her spirit, but she was tired in the best way. She tried not to think of what had happened with Mr. Gold, but as soon as she'd settled down next to Ariel the whole scene played out in her mind all over again - their easy banter, her agreeing to wear the necklace and then that terrifying, thick arousal that had come over them both like a heated spell, and how Belle had let herself ruin what could well have been everything she'd been dreaming of for months.

Despite a few reckless years in high school, Belle wasn't always one to jump into bed or dive headfirst into a kiss...though she kicked herself ten times over for not letting her body lead her into the arms of the one man she wanted.

And she did want him. It had been an ache in her chest when he'd left in the winter, and she feared losing him to his own secrets.

Even with her dread at the awkwardness of it, Belle hoped that Mr. Gold might speak of their moment in the shop the next time she saw him. She was too afraid to bring it up on her own, sure if she did that he would apologize and take care to keep her even farther than an arm's length away in future.

Belle didn't want that.

Certainly, she wanted more than the polite friendship they'd shared for the past year, but not all at once - she'd been overwhelmed, frightened by the intensity she'd seen in his eyes. He'd looked ready to eat her alive, right there in the shop. He hadn't looked like himself at all.

If Mr. Gold mentioned what had happened before the mirror, then she might be able to turn his words to her advantage. She wanted to convince him that she, Belle French, could be worth taking a chance with. That she was worth more than polite friendship, that when the time was right, she could be worth his romance, his passion.

_Or maybe I'm just worthless_.

Belle sighed, her mind exhausted from churning out a hundred potential outcomes for the next time she saw the man. Only time would tell. Until then, Belle could do nothing but lay back in the shade and wait.


	13. Sunshire

**Author's Note: Someone needs to PM me right now so that I can have someone to talk to about the winter finale. Oh, how my heart aches for Rumbelle...**

* * *

><p>Summer bloomed over Storybrooke, hot, breezy and colorful. For days, Gold waited for Belle to come into his shop so that he might bring his plan to action. He understood that she was keeping her distance; he'd seen her walking this way or that from the shop window, walking toward the library or in the direction of Game of Thorns, depending on the day. They had waved at each other a few times and bumped into each other on the street as she'd been hurrying between jobs.<p>

She was as busy as ever, she'd told him, but promised to drop by the shop later on that day. So Gold had done his usual maintenance, sending out notices and the like, and he'd taken to looking over his pouch of gems when the bell above the door jingled to announce his visitor.

Using the remote to bring down the volume on Lana del Rey's crooning of _Video Games_, (the sound system being Belle's suggestion from their first month of acquaintance - he'd installed the system the very next day and enjoyed it every day since) he smiled to see her step inside with the basket he'd let her take on her last visit.

"Good afternoon, Miss French."

She returned his smile, and Gold was thankful to see that she didn't appear nervous to be with him in the shop again. Belle lifted the basket, passing it to him across the counter. "Hi, Mr. Gold. I'm sorry I'm a little late, I had to run back to my place to grab that for you, I almost forgot it."

He took the basket and set it on the floor. He'd put it back in the work room later. "I wasn't in any rush to get it back, but thank you. Did you have fun at the beach?"

Belle huffed out a laugh. "Lots of fun, but too much sun. Look at this."

Belle lifted her hair and pulled the collar of her blouse to the side to expose her neck and shoulder, where the skin glowed with a bright, painful sunburn. Gold had touched her there, just days ago stroked her freckled skin, but seeing it now, he could only shake his head. "Red as a lobster."

Belle righted herself. "It's my own fault, I got careless and missed some spots. My shoulder's the worst of it, though. Luckily it's nothing some aloe lotion can't help."

Gold noticed then, a bright patch on the back of her left arm, some of the back of her right hand shared red as well. It was on his tongue, the offer to massage her tender skin with the cooling lotion, but he bit it back.

"I am sorry you came back with a burn, but it's good that you had a day to spend with friends. Is your work schedule lightening up at all?" Here he was genuinely curious. Belle worked so hard, both to further her career at the library and to keep her father's business afloat, but from what Gold could tell she had nearly nothing to show for it.

Belle shrugged lightly. "I...I'm still working at Game of Thorns and at the library, but I've stopped taking on the extra work around town. Things are hitting an even keel for the moment. Who knows? I might even get a full weekend somewhere down the line!"

Gold smiled pleasantly, but inside he was angry for her. If her father had any sense for business, and any sense of responsibility at all, then Belle wouldn't be working herself to the bone just to save his sinking ship.

Unfortunately, because Belle was making sure all the bills and payments went through, Gold could not shut town the flower shop and free her. Not that he wasn't ready to pounce with a foreclosure notice the moment they were a day late on the rent. He rather thought Belle would thank him for that.

In any case...

"Miss French, would you be free next Sunday?"

Belle thought for a moment. "The library will be closed and...let me see..." She pulled a folded piece of paper from her oversized purse and looked it over. "No, I'm not working the shop either. Looks like I'm free as a bird."

She grinned and, with a wink, pulled two cold glass bottles of root beer from her purse as well. Gold wasn't sure where her neverending supply of sodas came from, but he wasn't complaining. Root beer was his favorite. Gold took both bottles, twisted off the caps and handed one back to her. "Thank you for the drink." He said after a sip.

Belle accepted his thanks, and began fingering her right earring. Plastic pink roses today, not her gifted topaz.

He could waffle back and forth on this for another few days, but recalling her response to him before the mirror, he'd had enough hesitation. "Miss French, would you like to accompany me to Sunshire?"

"Me?"

Gold looked around the shop. "You're the only one here. I've been meaning to ask you to come out with me for some time. This opportunity came up and as you're free that day I thought to strike now."

Belle blinked. "What's going on in Sunshire?"

"There's an opportunity there. An ornate carved headboard that was part of a recent estate sale. The buyer is set, I'm only going to ensure it hasn't been damaged, and to see it prepped for transport." He explained. "That won't take long, and once it's done I thought we could make a day of it."

Belle was silent.

"Unless you'd prefer to stay in the back room and we go on acting like strangers outside of my shop and your library?" Gold prompted.

Belle laughed, "All right, sold!" She reached forward and shook his hand.

"I'll pick you up, say, 11?" Gold suggested.

"I'll be ready, Mr. Gold."

* * *

><p>Sunday arrived slowly.<p>

Belle spent the ten days between Mr. Gold's invitation and the day of their trip in a state of excitement and determination. She'd hardly believed her ears when he'd asked her to come away with him for the day, he'd had to tell a joke to snap her back to the moment.

_This_ was what she'd been hoping for without putting her wish into words: for Mr. Gold to see her outside of Storybrooke, away from all the disapproving eyes and the idiot gossip.

That moment of intensity at the mirror had been overwhelming - though they hadn't shared a word, it had revealed everything hidden between them. Mr. Gold had shown her, just with the stroke of his hands and the piercing of his eyes that he wanted her. If Belle hadn't broken the moment, he might have moved to take her right there, and she wouldn't have resisted, but she feared the regret that would follow.

If Belle was to allow things to go deeper with Mr. Gold, and she wanted nothing more in the world, then she had to know what he thought of her in his own words. It wasn't enough to know she could give rise to lust in the man, lust was fleeting; she wanted to know he cared for her and that anything between them could be lasting.

But this, a day spent together in their neighboring city of Sunshire, it would be a wonderful way to spend the time rather than pretend being relative strangers outside of a few locations in town, as Mr. Gold had said. They had been friends for a year but she craved this freedom to explore each other more deeply. Belle saw this as an opportunity to test the man, and herself, once the constraints of Storybrooke would be let loose.

_Hell, we might go wild and use each other's first names! _Belle thought wryly. Nevermind she had no idea what Mr. Gold's real name was, and he'd shown no inclination to share it.

Belle dug through her closet to choose the perfect outfit, hair and makeup style for their outting. She wanted to look like she belonged with a man like him, in a city like Sunshire. There, she wouldn't be the poor girl with the criminal father, pinching pennies and struggling just to scrape by. There, she could be herself and more. There, she could openly be Mr. Gold's friend, and to the unknowing eye, she could be his equal, his lover.

Once the day finally arrived, Belle woke early to shower and attend to her skin - exfoliating, shaving, washing, then moisturizing with an extra rich cream to keep herself soft and help speed along her sunburn's healing. For scent, she spritzed herself behind the ears with the last drops of Dolce & Gabana's _Light Blue_, a birthday gift from Jasmine from three years past. Belle tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

The woman studied her face in the mirror carefully, checking her brows, her lashes and lips.

She flossed and brushed her teeth twice, then applied her makeup with the precision of a surgeon. Belle had decided days ago to enhance her eyes with a black liner and then a light bronze shadow, curling her lashes and adding a single coat of mascara. She wasn't overly vain, but she adored her own eyes - they had always been distinctive in the family, a bright, clear blue. With her makeup they practically glowed in the mirror. A slick of strawberry gloss on her lips finished the look. She pinned back her curls with gold bobby pins and brought the rest of her hair forward over her shoulders.

Belle rushed back and forth across her apartment in her bra and panties, feeling giddy and scatterbrained. Her dress had been selected days ago, as had her jewelry and shoes. Carefully, she shimmied into her dress, a simple A-line cut with a deep V-neck in firecracker red lace. Perhaps she'd been inspired by the last two Hunger Games films after reading all the books, but she wanted to look like a girl on fire for Mr. Gold. Her purse was a simple gold clutch, her shoes were gold heels with thin straps lacing across her feet and ankles, borrowed from Ruby. She'd even had her short nails done in a matching red shade with thin gold tips - a kicky detail, but he might notice.

Belle stood before the mirror, happily obsessing over her look for the day, hoping Mr. Gold would like it. Hoping he would praise her, call her beautiful again because when he said the words she truly believed him.

Her eyes snapped to her door when she heard the knocking, precisely at 11 am.

Mr. Gold had come for her.

Belle called out "Just one second!" and looked herself over in the mirror again. Her hair looked soft, touchable. Her dress was a balance of tasteful and alluring. Her makeup was fresh, keeping focus on her eyes. Her skin was lotioned and perfumed, her sunburns almost fully healed now.

_All right, here goes everything!_

Belle took up her clutch purse and crossed to answer the door. She took a final deep breath and twisted the knob.

Mr. Gold stood on her doorstep, and clearly she hadn't been the only one to make an extra effort with her wardrobe for their day out together. The man wore a charcoal grey suit and matching waistcoat, with a white shirt and a dark teal tie underneath. Black leather shoes were on his feet, and if Belle wasn't mistaken, his cane had been polished from handle to tip. It was a smart look, and certainly brighter than anything she'd seen him wear before in Storybrooke.

But the expression on his face wasn't something she'd ever seen him wear in town, either. His eyes had widened as he took her in, looking her up and down several times, his jaw tensing without saying a word.

"Mr. Gold?"

He blinked. "Miss French, you look..."

"Nice?" She supplied.

"Absolutely gorgeous."

Belle felt heat rise, sure she was blushing as bright as her dress. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. You look very handsome. I guess we had the same idea to dress up today."

He nodded, still staring, clearly dumbfounded by her appearance. "I...hmm? Dressed up?"

Belle stepped out to join him in the hall and locked her door, then the two of them moved to the elevator. "Your suit. I can't help noticing that it's new, and you're usually not one for lighter colors." She said, gesturing to his shirt and tie.

Gold raised his brows as they stepped into the elevator car and it make the quick descent to the lobby. From behind the security desk, Dove nodded to them as they left, making way toward his car parked just on the curb. "Ah, I wasn't aware that you kept such an eye on my wardrobe, Miss French."

Settling into the passenger seat after Mr. Gold held open the door for her, Belle blushed again. "I never said I was monitoring your wardrobe!"

Gold started the car and shifted into gear. It was just past 11am, they would arrive in Sunshire in less than an hour and from there, the day was theirs. "No, just my suits and the colors I tend to favor." He teased. "Miss French, I didn't know you cared."

Belle fiddled with the clutch purse in her lap. "Of course I care. But you noticed me too, so what does that tell you?"

Gold steered them out of town. "Only that I'm a master at stating the obvious."

He smiled lightly at her, and Belle felt any nervous tension she'd had slip away. Mr. Gold might not have noticed her nails, but he'd definitely noticed _her_, and their day was just getting started.

* * *

><p>After only a few minutes spent arguing over what to listen to on the radio, the ride over to Sunshire was spent in easy banter. He teased her, she teased him, and it was like his Cadillac had become an extension of the sanctuary granted inside his shop.<p>

The car crossed over the town line into Sunshire, and Gold steered them on a route that he was clearly familiar with. "This is my only business for the day, Miss French. It'll be very quick, just in and out."

"What are you doing in there, again?" Belle asked.

"It's a carved headboard. It was part of an estate sale, and the buyer hired me to inspect the piece before it ships. All I need to do is look it over, and then we can go." He explained as he pulled up to a non-descript warehouse building, one of many in the surrounding business park.

They exited the car and stepped into the front end of the warehouse where the offices were located. A man was waiting for them, who Mr. Gold introduced to her as Mr. Fielder.

"It's just in the back, Mr. Gold. Once we have your signature, we'll ship it today." Mr. Fielder explained as he lead Mr. Gold into a private storage room.

Belle took a seat in the little waiting area, sipping at water from a paper cone cup and idly flipping through a _People_ magazine from last spring. If she went absolutely still and concentrated, she could hear Mr. Gold and Mr. Fielder talking through the walls. Their voices were muffled, and she could only pick up pieces of their conversation.

"...edging here...-ing this afternoon..."

"Of course. I'll inform...get to the storage unit prep-..."

The door opened and Belle stood once the men came out. Mr. Fielder gestured for them both to follow him, and lead them past the offices into the connecting warehouse in the back of the building.

Belle took a seat once more as Mr. Gold walked a short distance away with Mr. Fielder, and they began speaking once they were out of earshot. She watched idly as they smiled and gestured while the rest of the warehouse went on operating around them.

Three minutes later, the men shook hands and Mr. Gold approached her again. "See? It's as I said, we're all done here."

Belle stood from her chair, impressed. "You weren't lying. We haven't been here more than twenty minutes."

Gold moved toward the other side of the warehouse, and Belle followed him. His car would be easier to reach from the exit door there, rather than go all through the office section of the building to retrace their steps.

"I rarely tell an outright lie. The rest of the time I'm..." Gold thought on how best to explain his ways.

"Creative with the truth?"

Gold smiled at that. She was learning. "Yes. More often than not, unfortunately."

On their way to the exit, they passed the headboard itself as it was being moved to the shipment prep area. The headboard was the very reason for their trip. The very reason that Gold had asked her to spend the day with him here in Sunshire. In a way, Belle felt that she owed some gratitude to the piece.

"Oh, this is it."

Mr. Gold nodded. "Yes, that would be it." He checked his watch. "Have a look, by this time tomorrow it'll be on the other side of the country."

Belle did as he advised and stepped closer to the board, reaching out to trace her fingertips over the heavenly mural carved into the rich dark wood. She touched an angel, then a lion. Such beautiful detail, such a unique work...Belle understood, better and better with each piece that passed through his shop, what drew Mr. Gold toward dealing in antiques.

"It's beautiful." She said softly, moving her hand to trace over a tree in the center of the mural.

Mr. Gold moved to stand behind her, though he kept his hands on the handle of his cane rather than touching her shoulders again. He'd scared her off once already, he wouldn't make that same mistake again.

"It is."

Belle turned around to face him. "And you spoke with the buyer?"

"I did."

"And they'll take good care of this, won't they?"

Gold furrowed his brows, unsure of what she meant.

"I just mean...they'll appreciate it, won't they? This isn't something they'll buy, keep for a while and then just throw away?"

"No, no. Not after the effort they put into finding this piece and then paying me to oversee it's transport. This isn't some Ikea trend to them. It's for a man in Seattle, a housewarming gift for himself and his wife now they've built their dream home. Miss French, is something bothering you?" He asked, unclear on why she seemed so concerned over a headboard, of all things.

Belle shook her head, "No, no, I just...I know it's just a headboard. It's just a piece of wood, and in a better world it would still be a tree. But someone, somewhere, went through the effort of creating something wholly unique in the world. Something beautiful. It deserves to be taken care of, it deserves to be cherished."

For a moment, they were silent.

Belle felt foolish, but in a way, she knew that Mr. Gold understood. He, who so valued objects with interesting histories and had spent a lifetime building a business around them, yes, Mr. Gold understood. She could see it in his eyes.

"I couldn't agree more." He extended his hand. "Rest assured, it will be in good hands. Now, my business here is through, and we have the day to ourselves."

Belle smiled and took his hand into her own, sure that this would be a day to be remembered.

* * *

><p>Mr. Gold drove them away from the warehouse district of Sunshire and on into the main square of the town. "Do you come here very often, Mr. Gold?" Belle asked.<p>

She was asking this just to make conversation - she knew he came here on occasion, and he'd told her himself that he'd spent part of his time here, when he'd disappeared for those weeks in winter.

He parked and they exited, moving up the main drag, window shopping and passing the occasional cafe. "Yes, I have interests here. A few business, a few personal. And you, Miss French?"

Beside him, Belle shrugged. "Not too often, and especially not lately." That much was too true - working herself so hard had kept Belle chained to Storybrooke. "I haven't been here...oh, it must be over a few months by now! Isn't that strange, how we can get wrapped up in something and time just slips past us?"

Gold nodded. "It happens to me too often. If I could do things over, I'd jump at the chance."

Belle patted his arm. "We all would."

"So, seeing as you haven't been here in so long, allow me to play tour guide." Mr. Gold suggested as they walked on. "Perhaps you'd like to meet my doppelgänger."

"Wait, your what?"

Mr. Gold smiled. "It's just around the corner. Trust me, you'll like this."

* * *

><p>Belle wandered through the store, <em>Mr. Green's Collectibles<em>, unable to stop herself from comparing this larger, brighter store with Mr. Gold's more intimate shop in Storybrooke. It seemed this Mr. Green needed more space on his sales floor, as he sold furniture sets and home goods in addition to the smaller items such as jewelry and hand crafts.

She smiled to see a shelf bursting with curios; snow globes and tiny jade figurines, wood carvings, children's books and novelty pouches of colorful stones. There were clothes as well, and, browsing through a clearance rack, Belle shook her head. She had to remember that this was Sunshire, Storybrooke's much wealthier sister city - even on clearance, the leather jacket she'd been admiring was still well over $100.

"Miss French."

Belle lifted her head, searching for Mr. Gold. The last she'd seen of him, he'd gone off with Mr. Green to talk about some collection of skeleton keys found in a decrepit London estate.

It had been the strangest thing, to enter this store and be introduced to Mr. Green. There had been a strong resemblance in the men; one of them was a bit taller, one of them was a bit thinner, they shared the same taste in suits and wore their hair perhaps just a bit longer than what was the norm for men in their position. They had the same brown eyes and had similar features; truly, they could pass for brothers though Mr. Green was an American.

Still, doppleganger or not, Belle preferred the real Mr. Gold over any other man.

She turned away from the clothes and rounded a corner to find Mr. Gold standing before a full service tea set, both hands planted on the cane before him. The tea set was gorgeous, the outsides of the pot and cups were a deep royal blue, while the insides were bone white, inlaid with an elegant, swirling design in shimmering gold leaf. The saucers were a perfect reflection of that design, as were the sugar bowl and tiny gold spoons.

"Oh, my God! Just look at this, it's beautiful!" Belle gushed as she lifted a cup for a closer look at the design on the inside rim.

"For you."

Belle nearly dropped the cup, "For me? No, Mr. Gold, I can't accept this. It's lovely, but it's too expensive."

"The sale was final."

"You've seen my apartment, I have nowhere to put it!" She couldn't imagine keeping such a fine set on the card table outside her kitchen.

"I could keep it in the shop, you could visit it there." Gold reasoned.

"But you already have tea things for the back room." She reminded him of the plain black and white set they used when she brought her tea blends to share.

Gold shrugged. Perhaps he should have thought this through a bit better. "I'll just bring it home, then. I'm sure I can find a place for it." God knew his house was full of empty spaces to fill.

"I could visit it there, too." Belle shyly suggested. Where she found the courage to voice such a wish, she had no idea.

Gold cleared his throat, flexed his fingers on the cane. "Yes, you could. Anytime you like."

_Come home with me tonight. You'll never want for anything, ever again._

Belle quirked her lips, "Is that an official invitation?"

Seeing that she was at ease was all the encouragement he needed. He returned her smile. "Only if you'll accept."

He was delighted when she nudged him, "I could never refuse you, Mr. Gold."

The man raised a brow at that. "I'll keep that in mind for later, dearie."

Belle faked a gasp at his daring and swatted his arm. "You're awful!"

He only shrugged. "That I am. Awful and hungry. Lunch, Miss French?"

"I can't refuse lunch, either. Lead the way, Mr. Gold."

Mr. Gold arranged for the tea set to be delivered to his house in Storybrooke. He thought it would look nice on the kitchen table, with or without Miss French as his visitor.

Once again, Belle surprised him by resting her hand in the crook of his elbow and matching her pace to his own. To anyone who saw them, they would appear a couple. Belle had to know that, and yet she walked on happily at his side.

* * *

><p>Gold and Belle were heading up the main square, intent to find a spot for lunch. He knew of a bistro, it was his favored restaurant in Sunshire and he was sure that Belle would appreciate everything on offer.<p>

It was an alluring fantasy to feed her. Often he toyed with the thought. Belle, assisting him in the kitchen at home, then sharing the finished meal with him at the table. Belle, laying atop his bed in satin lingerie as he fed her berries by hand. Belle, her naked body drizzled in chocolate, caramel and fruit, a living buffet begging for his tongue.

Gold blinked himself out of those thoughts, realizing she'd asked him something. Belle had stopped on noticing the tents and the crowd gathered in Maryhill Park, Sunshire's outdoor marketplace. Often the space was used as a farmer's market, and much like Storybrooke's Spring Fling and Fall Festival, Maryhill hosted all of Sunshire's citizen holidays.

"Mr. Gold, what's that?"

"Oh, right, it's Sunday. That would be the Sunshire flower market. Do you want a look?" He asked.

Although Belle resented having to volunteer to work in her father's shop, she liked flowers as much as she next woman. Besides, any side trips they took before lunch would prolong their time together.

"Yes, please!"

They headed into the park, blending in seamlessly with Sunshire's wealthy. Each tent offered different types of flowers, from standard carnation roses and huge harvested sunflowers to more exotic offerings such as birds of paradise and bright calatheas. Belle was more than impressed when she saw that the tents stretched on and on through the field.

Gold disappeared on her for a moment but Belle wasn't worried, sure they would find each other again. She moved to a tent and began to speak with the vendor, asking him about the tulips and calla lillies he was selling, what vitamins he added to the soil, the temperature of his greenhouses and the like. Belle was forever curious, and hoped to pick up a few tips that might help Game of Thorns going forward.

"Miss French."

Belle turned around, finding Mr. Gold at her side once more. He had a flower for her in his hand, a bloom of bright, canary yellow. "I thought you might like this, it's a-"

"A star orchid!" Belle exclaimed, recognizing it on sight. "Ever since I started at Game of Thorns I've wanted to get some orchids in stock but they're so difficult to keep alive and too expensive to source." Belle looked at it closely, admiring the buttery petals, the full health of the blossoms. "It's beautiful, thank you."

Belle looked back up at him and smiled, tucking the orchid sprig into her hair, just over her ear. Mr. Gold smiled back at her, pleased that she liked his choice of flower. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"I am."

* * *

><p>At Mr. Gold's suggestion, the pair found themselves seated comfortably on the outdoor terrace of Michael's, a French style bistro. Gold couldn't help suggesting the restaurant with a pun, "French for my favorite French", and mentioned that the only other place in the world that made such a perfect creme brûlée was another cafe in Lyon.<p>

How could Belle refuse such a recommendation? Besides, it wasn't everyday that she was treated to a day in Sunshire, so she wasn't going to argue with him over where to eat.

Again, at his recommendation, Belle ordered the tomato bisque with a large buttered croissant. It was nothing short of fantastic, as were their starter salads, and the bite of his croque Monsieur sandwich he'd offered to her.

After their lunches had been cleared, Mr. Gold had ordered her a creme brûlée so that he could prove the dessert's superiority over any sweet thing she'd ever tasted before.

"Trust me." He'd told her once the waiter brought the dish. "It'll be your new favorite after the first bite."

Belle used her spoon to break through the caramel shell, liking the _crunch_ it made, and scooped out the custard underneath. Mr. Gold watched as she took it between her lips, careful to keep his face neutral as she savored the taste. The hard, hot piece of caramel shell contrasting so wonderfully with the cool, sweet passion fruit cream. The woman closed her eyes and hummed lightly as she let her tongue explore the textures, the flavor, for the first time.

"And so, Miss French?"

Belle opened her eyes to find him grinning at her across the table, waiting for her to admit that he was right, that the creme brûlée here was amazing, the best that America had to offer.

She nodded and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. "You were right, as always. This is delicious." Belle crunched through the shell for another small bite.

Mr. Gold watched as she closed her eyes again, briefly savoring the sweetness on her tongue. If he could trade places with that spoon between her lips, he would do so in a heartbeat.

Belle slid the dish of creme brûlée across the table, to him. "I can't eat the whole thing. You have to share this with me."

Mr. Gold raised a brow. He had ordered the dessert for her, but as he liked it too, he took up his spoon.

Belle smiled. "On three." She said, lifting her spoon once more.

"One." Gold counted out.

She nodded, "Two."

"Three!" They said in unison, the crunch of their spoons breaking the shell. Together, they took a bite, rolling the same flavors on their tongues, experiencing the taste together.

It was a pleasant thing to share, and before long, the dish was empty.

Their waiter cleared the dishes and, at Gold's order, brought out two mimosas. Belle had given a half-hearted protest, but relented when he lifted his glass for a cheers.

"To Sunshire." He said, and his reason for the toast, though unspoken, was clear to her.

_To Sunshire - because we can be ourselves here, we can be together_, Belle thought. _It_ _should always be this way._

Belle shifted in her chair, crossing her legs but letting the skirt of her dress ride up just a touch higher on her thigh. His eyes flickered down to her legs just for a moment, but Mr. Gold said nothing.

That was all right, she decided. He didn't need to say anything, he didn't need to do anything. He had already done more than she'd dreamed of for her today, and it was only lunch, their day wasn't over yet. Belle idly touched one of the topaz at her ear, her most prized possessions.

They sat in a lovely, peaceful silence. Relaxed, dreamlike, they watched as Sunshire bustled about its day; children being lead by their parents, groups of rowdy teenagers, singles and couples walking all breeds of dog.

Together they enjoyed the afternoon sun, letting it warm them. Gold felt supremely content. Full from a delicious lunch, his woman at his side, she was secure and provided for and they were as free as they had ever been to enjoy each other's company.

This had been their day.

Gold had let himself believe that Belle was his from the moment he'd woke that morning; that she was his and this was some special occasion between them, a birthday or an anniversary, and Belle had done nothing to ruin his private fantasy. She'd not pulled away when he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her, she'd linked her arm with his when they'd walked the streets and she hadn't corrected Mr. Green when he'd assumed them as being a couple when greeting them in his store. The orchid he'd given her was still tucked in her hair, she proudly wore his bloom.

The man watched her fondly as she sipped at her mimosa, slightly alarmed at how light she made him feel. With her there was no stress, no anger, no disappointment. Even being as silent as they were, she made him happy, and happiness was something he hadn't felt in years.

No one should have such power over him.

Belle set her glass down and looked back at him, and her heeled foot nudged his calf under the table. "What's next, Mr. Gold?"

The man shrugged, "My business here is done with, but we can take in a bit more of the town if you're in no hurry to get home."

"I'm always up for new scenery."

"As my lady wishes." He said, making her smile in remembrance at their inside joke.

Belle rose from the table with him and together they made their way further into town, with no particular heading in mind.

* * *

><p>Eventually they wove their way into an art store, where Belle showed interest in several watercolor landscapes, and one oil pastel of a Highland castle. Gold wasn't too keen on any of the works on display, but made a mental note of what she liked.<p>

Who knew?

He might procure one of the works and hold on to it as a gift for her, should things between them ever take that more favorable turn. A fond wish, that, but in all likelihood he'd buy a painting and give it to her as a birthday or Christmas gift - a present between friends, nothing more.

Well.

Either way, Gold could make her smile, so he would make a call for one of the pieces the following afternoon.

After the art store, Gold and Belle made their way to an old-fashioned ice cream shop for another sweet snack. A cup of raspberry swirl for her, a cone of toffee nut crunch for him. They spoke of idle things, her plans for the library's next project and he told a funny story about some buyer from his dealings in the past.

Belle forced herself to ignore the way he licked at his cone, imagining herself on the receiving end of his tongue.

Instead, she listened as Mr. Gold expanded on one of the more difficult jewel works he was to receive. It would be a brooch from one of the last Russian czars, gifted to a mistress, a treasure of sapphire, emerald, ruby, citrine and diamond.

"It sounds beautiful." Belle said.

"It was, once. And it will be again when I'm finished with it. It will be difficult, some of the stones are missing, broken prongs and the like." He shrugged. "Once I have the piece, I'll know what I need from a jeweler."

"A jeweler?" Belle raised a brow. "Shane's the only jeweler I know."

"Yes, Mr. Garrison was quite helpful in gaining me access to the gemstone trade."

"You and Shane have done business before?" She asked, surprised. "I had no idea."

"It was just after the death of his father. I gave him time to adjust to his taking his father's place in exchange for his assistance." Gold told her, careful not to reveal any pertinent details. If Belle had questions, he was sure she would ask Mr. Garrison herself.

Belle smiled and nudged his shoulder. "See? Why don't people know this side of you?"

He shook his head, smiling lightly. "I enjoy keeping my secrets, Miss French. If Storybrooke knew of my occasional generosity, they would all be breaking down my door to demand the same favor. Better that they think me a monster and preserve my business reputation."

She nodded, understanding. Mr. Gold was a mystery to her in many ways, but in others he could make perfect sense.

Perhaps, in time, they could make sense together.

* * *

><p>The sun was shifting, the daylight hours growing shorter.<p>

It was with regret that Mr. Gold and Belle knew their day together was over. Evening was descending on them, the sky sweeping into orange, pink and purple. They shared a look, and Mr. Gold jingled his keys. Belle nodded and took up her purse.

She would have had more fun with their unspoken conversation if she wasn't so disappointed that their time was at an end.

Mr. Gold lead the way back toward his car, offering his arm to Belle, so pleased when she took it again, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I'm sorry this day had to end." Belle said quietly once they'd settled into the car.

Mr. Gold started the engine and began to steer them on the route back to Storybrooke. "As am I, Miss French. It was good of you to come out." He glanced to her, and then back to the road ahead.

Belle smiled. "I wanted to. Really, I'd been looking forward to it since you invited me."

"Well, it was nice to see you outside rather than in the shop or the library."

"Hey, we've had breakfast at Granny's." Belle reminded him.

"Mmm. Twice in the space of a year, by my count." Gold agreed. "We may want to up that number."

Belle smiled, but kept silent.

The woman reached for his free hand and held it for the rest of their drive back home, everything unspoken but perfectly clear.

* * *

><p>Gold steered his Cadillac through the streets of Storybrooke, unable to stop himself from comparing his city to Sunshire.<p>

Storybrooke was smaller, both in economy and in the measure of its tolerance. Had Gold walked arm in arm with Belle down the main street for everyone to see, or flirted with her over a shared dessert, well, they would hear no end of it.

Belle especially would suffer for sharing his company, he knew. The gossips could be vicious, and it wouldn't take more than an hour to spread tales of ridiculous depravity throughout the town. Belle's friends wouldn't believe it of them, but Granny, those damn nuns, and most anyone outside of her social circle would swallow whatever story they were fed.

They had been right to keep their connection a secret. She had been protected and he had enjoyed peace of mind.

Now, though...

Gold parked in front of her building and exited his vehicle to say goodnight. It wasn't nightfall just yet, the sky above them was twilight, a dusky lavender that only allowed the brightest of stars to shine through.

Belle got out of his car as well, and they stood together on the sidewalk before her building, facing each other. She studied him. The soft lines of his face, the contrasts of gray and brown in his hair, and his eyes. Dark whiskey brown, usually so gentle and calm. She had seen them burn for her, and there was a spark in his gaze now.

Mr. Gold reached forward to take her hand in his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.

Belle might have kissed him then and there, but they were both keenly aware that they would be seen. There were eyes everywhere - Granny was just down the street, sweeping the front sidewalk of her diner; Dr. Hopper was at the top of the block walking his Dalmatian, he even waved to them; Ashley and Jasmine were down at the other end of the street, laughing over something in the glow of their cell phone screens.

There were others, they knew. People who could see them from the windows of the surrounding buildings, people who could see them from passing traffic.

But none of that seemed to matter. Not with her hand in Mr. Gold's, with his thumb stroking her so gently. Not with this shy smile playing at his lips. Not with her heart ready to beat its way out of her chest.

"Miss French, I would-"

A loud car horn and a shout of "Hey, Belle!" snapped them out of the moment.

Startled, Belle turned from him, looking to the road and Gold followed her eyes. Marcus had just pulled up to them, his Mustang practically glowing with its fresh coat of paint, the restored engine purring under the hood. Marcus's dream machine was ready to take on the world.

Petty as it was, Gold couldn't help but notice how drab and out of trend his own vehicle appeared in comparison - just like the rest of him when compared to the other man, he frowned to note.

Belle glanced to Gold, her expression perfectly conveying the message - _I'm sorry, we have our roles to play._

She squeezed his hand and then let go, stepping over to address her friend, a false smile painted across her face. "Marcus, what're you up to?"

"I just got her painted, what do you think?"

"It's beautiful!"

Marcus glanced past her to see Mr. Gold standing near his classic Cadillac. "Mr. Gold, my pride and joy." He introduced the Mustang by revving the engine.

"I see your project is complete." Mr. Gold said noncommittally. "Is it as you hoped it would be?"

Marcus laughed, giddy with his achievement. "You tell me, sir." He said, revving the engine again. "I came out this way because I promised Belle before I even bought it that, once it was restored and road-ready, she would get the first ride." Marcus shifted attention back to her. "So what do you say, doll? Let's roll."

"Marcus, Mr. Gold and I were just-"

"We were just saying goodnight." Mr. Gold cut in.

Belle turned to him, her eyebrows raised. She could see the change in his eyes. The spark was gone. He was Mr. Gold again, but not _her_ Mr. Gold. It was clear that their moment had passed.

Belle stepped closer to him and gave a regretful smile, something like apology in her tone when she began, "Mr. Gold, I had a lovely time with you today. Sunshire was great, but I was happy for the chance to spend time with you."

The man nodded before she could finish, "I'm glad that you agreed to come out with me for the day, Miss French. We'll do it again."

Gold took hold of her hand then, and, feeling a touch reckless, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

Belle stared at him, her eyes wide, her pulse beating a hard tattoo of **Gold Gold Gold** through her blood.

Saying nothing, Gold inclined his head, dismissing her to the friend who waited for her in the superb vehicle restored by his own hands.

Watching her depart, Gold felt a touch of triumph even as he listened to the roar of the Mustang fading down the street.


	14. The Surprise Guest

He was laughing, hollering like a lunatic high on his own joy, and proud, so proud of the dream he'd built. For the first time in his life, everything was going right for Marcus Sawyer. Thanks to Mr. Gold's hefty business loan, he'd been able to open the auto-parts store, allowing him to become his own boss and a resource to the town.

The perfect opportunity rose to buy the 1965 Mustang convertible, his dream since he'd been a boy and fallen in love with cars. Months of work later, months of long weeks setting up his store and months spent working under the hood had produced the miracle that sped about Storybrooke.

And of course, his true love and his friends were always right there by his side.

Belle laughed along with him, so proud, so happy for her friend, and high on her own triumph of the night. "Marcus, this is beautiful! God, just look at it, it's perfect."

He slowed down for a traffic signal, unwilling to risk a ticket against his dream machine. "Thank you, Belle. It is perfect, it's just the way I wanted it, right down to the last detail."

"You're obsessed!"

"If I wasn't, then this car wouldn't look half as great as it does." The crossing traffic went on, and Marcus turned to look at her, noticing her lace dress and heels, her makeup and the bright flower in her hair for the first time. He gave a long wolf whistle, looking her up and down. "God, Belle, look at you! I definitely made the right choice to have you be the first woman in the car. You look great, I might put in a dress code before I let another woman sit in that seat."

Belle laughed and crossed her legs, showing him a bit more of her thigh. "Why, thank you! A girl has to look her best." She batted her lashes at the man, flirting and giddy.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. Belle was beautiful and always had been, but it had been some time since he'd seen her so done up. Usually her makeup was softer, her clothes more professional.

"What were you doing, all dressed up with Mr. Gold?" Marcus asked after he'd sped them up and down the main road of Storybrooke a few times, honking the horn and drawing all the attention he could.

Belle couldn't blame him for wanting to let the town know that months of his hard work and thousands of dollars spent on restoring the Mustang hadn't gone to waste. This car was more than a possession to him, it was a symbol of freedom and proof of accomplishment, a reminder to everyone who saw them that he was a brilliant mechanic and the man to see about anything on wheels.

But Belle faltered at his question - both the pawn shop and the library were closed on Sundays so she couldn't use either place as part of her white lie where Mr. Gold was concerned. She cleared her throat, thinking on her feet.

"I went to Sunshire this afternoon...I had a date, just someone I met online."

Belle wasn't sorry for the lie; the truth was far more complicated.

Marcus looked away from the road, to her for a second before turning his eyes back to the traffic. "Oh, yeah? How'd it go, you like the guy?"

"Not at all." Belle said, listing out the things she couldn't stand in a man. "He chewed with his mouth open, he was rude to the waitress and on top of that the tip he left her was barely 5%. You know how hard Ruby works, so it was a complete turn-off. I turned down his offer of a ride back home. I was at the bus stop when Mr. Gold recognized me and pulled up."

A blind date gone bad was easy enough to believe, and so Marcus did.

"Well, that's good. Better you got a ride with Gold than a creeper off the Internet...but Gold, he's practically a stranger to you too, isn't he?"

Belle shrugged, "I've shared a table with him a few times at Granny's and he's been to the library several times when he needs to research an antique for his shop. I'd never spoken to him before the library opened, though. It was sweet of him to take me home, he even let me choose the radio station."

That much, at least, was the truth.

Marcus nodded. "I didn't know you were dating again."

"I know, I just got an online offer to try this dating site for a month so I thought I'd give it a shot. I thought I'd just try, see who was out there. This time it just happened to be a creeper." Belle finished.

She would prefer to be honest with Marcus about how she'd really spent her day, about how she felt toward Mr. Gold, but she'd made an agreement to keep their connection discreet and she refused break her word.

Their friendship wasn't solely her secret to tell.

Marcus shrugged and revved the engine of his car once he pulled to a stop before another traffic light. "Well, I'm sorry your date fell through. Dating was stressful enough before people started using the Internet for blind dates and hook-ups." He said, reaching to stroke her hand. "I know that's not what you're looking for, but the problem is that most guys online are. You'll meet someone, Belle, and he'll be a great guy. But until then, just remember that you always have Shane and me to fall back on."

His reminder had her laughing, but she didn't want to go on lying about a first date that never happened. "Thank you, Marcus. This car is a dream."

Immediately, his attention was drawn back to his beloved project. "Isn't she? I named her Sally, you know, just like the song. It took me awhile to get the money together to afford the bucket seats and the new muffler I needed for this model..."

Belle was hardly listening as Marcus went on about the engine, the seats, the custom shade of paint...instead she was cradling her kissed hand and reliving her day out with Mr. Gold.

After an hour of cruising around Storybrooke, Marcus dropped Belle off with a kiss on her cheek and a smack to her rear, which in turn earned him a smack on the arm. Belle waved goodbye to him and made her way up to her apartment.

Finally, behind the closed door she could take off her heels and _think_.

_Oh, Mr. Gold, Mr. Gold...what am I going to do with you?_

Belle took the orchids out from her hair and put them in a glass of water, hoping to prolong them, though she knew the delicate blooms would be done in a day or two. She carried her purse and the borrowed pair of heels into her bedroom, flopping back onto her bed, a dreamy smile on her face. Mr. Gold cared for her, it had been clear for anyone to see.

The care he took with her, the gifts, the very fact that he'd asked her to come out with him at all...the man wanted her, he had to, or else why bother with this charming courtship?

If he was courting, it was working.

Belle kissed her own knuckles, right where he'd placed his lips - a stolen kiss.

_Courtship_. Belle mused to herself. _I'd rather he just ask to date me like any other man_.

But Mr. Gold was unlike any other man in Storybrooke, and she wouldn't love him half as much if he was.

Still, the woman was impatient.

When would she feel his lips press to hers? When would his hands touch her, hold her? When would this dance of hesitation and want finally _end?_

_I don't want to chase after him - I want him to chase me_. Belle asserted to herself. _I haven't wanted anything for myself in a long time, but I want something real with him._

Belle rolled off the bed and grumbled something to herself about the unfairness of her situation, but then reasoned that today had been remarkable progress. Mr. Gold had invited her out for the day, introduced her to his colleagues, taken her to lunch, given her a flower, bought her a teaset and issued an invitation to his house.

And then the kiss to her hand. Worlds more than she'd truly expected but not nearly enough...

Belle wondered about the invitation to his house, how long it would be before she actually crossed over his threshold.

_It'll probably take us another year to get that far_, Belle laughed to herself as she stepped out of her dress and into her glamorous sleepwear - an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

She washed off her makeup, removed her topaz earrings, the gold pins from her hair and her mother's necklace.

Belle stripped off her day in Sunshire and returned to her usual Storybrooke self.

* * *

><p>Gold parked his Cadillac in the driveway and then moved around to the front of the house to retrieve his mail, left in the box from Saturday. The man paused, listening. Distantly, he could hear the Mustang roaming through Storybrooke. Gold smiled, remembering his own wild years. Marcus Sawyer was a brash young man, but he'd worked for months on that car, let him have his fun showing off.<p>

Of course, Gold would have preferred if Mr. Sawyer hadn't chosen that moment to pull up and interrupt his time with Belle, but it couldn't be helped now.

He'd had the woman to himself for the whole day, on his arm, at his table, by his side. He'd kissed her hand and she hadn't looked unsure of the contact, she hadn't even looked surprised. She'd looked happy, even aroused if her blush was any hint.

_I'll invite her to the house. We won't be interrupted here._

Gold didn't have a script or any moves in mind. Rather he thought he'd invite her over for lunch - no, dinner - and see where the evening took them.

Miss French _knew_. After today there was no way she couldn't.

He stripped off his suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, then emerged from his bedroom and mulled over what food he had left in his refrigerator. There were the makings for sandwiches, he could make spaghetti...but no.

It wasn't _food_ he was hungry for.

Belle's bright eyes and her smiles, her jokes and the scent of her perfume. Her wardrobe was a wonderful combination of sexy and charming and everything she said and did was always so perfectly _her_.

What was he to do?

Gold had scared her off once before by coming on too strong, so if he were to drive back to her apartment right now and overwhelm her at the door with a kiss, a proper kiss, she wouldn't welcome that. He'd become a threat in her eyes, not a lover.

Gold eyed his keys, tempted. She might like it, though. Women were fickle that way.

He huffed, dismissing the idea.

They had had a lovely day out together - only the first of many, he hoped - and there was no reason to rush ahead and risk ruining their connection.

Gold took a glass of water in with him to the den and turned on the television to catch up on the news. Nothing good was happening in the outside world, though his native Scotland was to be voted on as an independent nation in the UK.

He thought on that, on what it might mean for the future...but he found it meant very little to him personally. Scotland wasn't home for him any longer, though he still loved it deeply. The memories he'd made there would always hold worlds of meaning to him, but Storybrooke was where he was and where he would remain for the rest of his days.

There was nothing else out in the world for him.

_No, not true_.

The man looked away from the screen as it went to commercial, and saw the picture of Regina and Henry that he kept on the mantle over his fireplace. It was a silly candid shot, taken only a year or so ago during the town's Spring Fling. They were both smiling, Henry holding a bag of popcorn and Regina holding some pink flower he'd given to her.

That was another thing to consider. If he moved forward with Belle, where would that leave Regina and Henry?

_One day out with Miss French on my arm and I'm already so far ahead of myself,_ he thought.

But thinking on Regina and Henry reminded him of what he'd discussed with the woman earlier in the summer. Time was running out, he had to speak with her and learn where she stood.

Gold fished out his cell phone and dialed, leaving a message.

"Regina, it's me. I was in Sunshire all day and just got back into town. I'll be over tomorrow, it's time we spoke about Henry."

* * *

><p>Regina Mills moved about her kitchen, setting out breakfast for three. She prepped plates and bowls with fruit and honeyed oatmeal, eggs and sausage. She was mayor elect over Storybrooke, her cunning matched only by one man.<p>

She thought of her mentor and smiled to herself as she took down _his_ cup, the red coffee mug he liked best out of the handful she kept in the cupboard. He would be up to the house soon, to discuss their arrangement, she knew.

Regina looked up, catching movement through the window. A moment later, there was the tapping of a cane against the back door. She smiled to see his blurred image through the window's frosted glass.

"Good morning, Gold." She greeted.

The man stood outside, his shoes a bit wet for having crossed the grass footpath to the back of the mayoral mansion. He was over to the residence several times a week, at all hours. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Gold was the man of the house.

"And to you, Regina." He returned.

She stepped aside to let him in, "Breakfast is ready. I'm out of tea, would you care for coffee?"

Mr. Gold nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She quirked her lips at his being so formal, as if they hadn't known each other for years, as if they hadn't been up through the night just days before, working close together on a zoning amendment and then later, on something else entirely.

"Stirring performance the other night, Regina." Gold remarked as he took a seat at the table, resting the cane over his lap. He'd meant to compliment her earlier, but he'd had no time to praise her after they'd been done. "I was impressed."

"But not surprised." She finished for him, smug over her prowess.

Gold smiled as she brought over his coffee, "I taught you well, dearie, and you've always been a quick study."

"Why, thank you."

He eyed her. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?

Regina moved to sit next to him at the small table. She had known that he would bring this up since he'd first asked her about it earlier in the summer. Weeks ago, the timing hadn't been right, but now they found themselves nearing the end of the season and the man deserved his answer.

She just wished she had a better one to give.

"I have...but I'm not ready. Not yet."

Gold furrowed his brow at that, and tried not to snarl. He didn't like this, her hesitance that would deny what would be best for them all. "We had an agreement. An _agreement_, Regina." He said pointedly. "You've never been one to back out of a deal with me before."

She nodded. He was right, but she was a mother. "I know, but this is different. This is Henry."

"Yes, and he's why I'm making the offer. Don't you think it's time?"

"I'm just...I'm not ready to let him go yet." She shrugged, unsure of how to explain this, the instinct to keep her boy close at all times.

At that, Gold laughed a little. "What, don't tell me that you're afraid if I take him out, I won't give him back?"

"Can you blame me? You have a history of stealing children." She teased.

Gold put a hand over his eyes, "I didn't write that script last year, I just performed it."

Regina smiled, remembering him on the library stage with Belle French, his co-star for the night. Henry still attended the plays, and he couldn't understand why Mr. Gold hadn't been brought back to perform again.

"That was such a fun night for us. I still have the pictures on my cell. Henry just loved you, all dressed up in your cape and hood, changing your voice."

Gold cracked out a mad, high-pitched giggle for her, brining out what had been rechristened his _Rumplestiltskin_ voice. "Well, dearie, the boy has good taste, though he didn't get it from you!" Gold teased her, and then cleared his throat, returning to his normal tone. "Now, Regina, back to it. We agreed that once Henry was old enough, you'd let me have more time with him."

"I know, it's just difficult to let go."

"No one understands that better than me." He said lowly, and Regina was sorry to have stirred his memories. "But a boy needs to learn how to become a man, from a man."

Regina reached across the table to put her hand over his, gratitude in her touch. "I know that you're right. We can ask him when he comes down."

Gold and Regina went on chatting for another twenty minutes before Henry wandered into the kitchen, seeking breakfast. He was a lanky boy with mussed brown hair, wearing a t-shirt with black cotton pants, sleepy eyes widening happily to see their guest, though Mr. Gold had been a familiar face in their house for years. "Good morning, Mr. Gold."

Gold smiled at the boy. "Good morning, Henry. Sleep well?"

"Yes. I like waking up later, it'll be hard to go back to waking up early for school."

"You have some time before the school year starts up again. All the better to live it up the rest of your summer vacation, I should think."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked him as he took a seat at the table, tucking into the plate his mother served him.

Gold looked to Regina, who nodded her approval. Gold went on, "Tell me, how does a few days of fishing, hunting and camping out in the woods sound to you?"

Henry's eyes widened, "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes. Your mother and I were talking, and if you wanted, you could come up to spend a few days with me in my cabin."

The boy's face split in a wide smile. "That sounds great! We can really go hunting?"

"Yes, now that you're old enough."

"No guns." Regina cut in. "But Mr. Gold can show you how to set snares for little things like rabbits. And you'll go fishing for trout and bass. Oh, and the camping, Henry! You'll get to see all the stars when you're sleeping out there in the woods."

"You've been to the cabin, mom?" Henry asked her.

Regina looked to Gold and they shared a warm look, their minds fading back to a weekend spent at the cabin, years ago. Regina the city girl's introduction to the wilderness.

She nodded. "Yes, a long time ago. I caught my first fish in the river that runs behind Mr. Gold's cabin, I'll always remember that."

Gold laughed at the memory. "So will I. You'd thrown lines all morning, and when you finally reeled in that little fish, you didn't know what to do so you just screamed for help." He turned to the boy. "You should have seen her, Henry. I came out of the cabin to see your mother on the edge of the water, too terrified to touch this fish that couldn't have been bigger than her own hand."

Henry brightened at the story, he loved to hear about his mother's adventures with Mr. Gold before she became the mayor. "Really? I want to go fishing! I'll catch one and I won't be afraid to touch it."

Regina touched her son's hair, combing it with her fingers. She bent down and kissed the crown of his head. "My brave boy."

"Pack a bag, Henry. We'll head out around lunch time. Who knows? We might even catch our dinner."

Scarfing down his breakfast, Henry ran back upstairs to do as he'd been told.

Regina looked to Gold. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. It'll be good for him."

The woman nodded and reached to touch his hand. "I think it'll be good for you, too."

* * *

><p>Days after their adventure to Sunshire, Belle decided to drop in on Mr. Gold to see where they stood. He had left for business on Monday and Tuesday, but the sign on the door of his shop had promised his return by Wednesday. He hadn't mentioned plans to leave again, but this wasn't his disappearance from the winter, this was only two days.<p>

On Thursday she left the library at noon, checking herself in the office mirror before heading down to the pawn shop. She saw him inside, and stepped in through the door but her usual greeting halted in her throat as his sudden gesture for silence.

Belle furrowed her brows in confusion and approached the counter. The crooning jazz on his sound system was turned down low, and he spoke not a word as she came closer. She followed him as he moved to draw back the curtain to the work room, revealing a sleeping toddler in a baby carrier set on the surface of his cleared work table.

Ah, the reason for his silence.

Belle and Mr. Gold moved back into the front of the shop, their voices just over a whisper.

"Should I be congratulating you?" Belle asked. She half-expected him to admit that, yes, some old flame of his had dropped off this surprise on the doorstep.

Mr. Gold shook his head, "She's not mine, Miss French."

A funny look came over Belle's face, "Oh my God, please tell me you didn't-"

"Didn't what? Finally make good on my word to take a debtor's firstborn?" Gold gave her an evil smile. "Your script was the inspitation for it, really. The client knew what my price was when he signed on the dotted line. That baby is mine now, I just wish I could be there when he explains his failure to he child's mother."

"Very funny." Belle deadpanned. "Come on, Mr. Gold, what're you doing with a baby?"

Gold shrugged, "All right, fine. She's my tailor's daughter. I'm just looking after her while he's making a court appearance."

"He's in _court_?"

"It's nothing serious, he's just clearing a traffic ticket. He should be back for her in another half hour." He said, checking his watch. "Good man and a single father, his regular day sitter fell through and so asked for the favor."

Belle laughed quietly. "Mr. Gold, a babysitter."

The man shrugged. "She's no trouble. She's easy, for a girl child." Off her look, he went on, "I've heard that girls can be more difficult, but I wouldn't know it myself. We...there was no daughter for us."

Belle remembered that he'd told her as much once before.

"I've heard that too, that girls are fussier."

"She's growing very quickly. Sweet child." Gold glanced back, checking on the baby. He looked back to Belle, seeing the strange, wistful expression on her face. "What?"

She blinked and smiled. "Ah, it's nothing, Mr. Gold. Just don't let anyone find out about this, if people knew you were soft for children then no one would ever be afraid of you again."

"Children are precious, even I know that, but you're right as always." He cleared his throat. "To protect my reputation, this will need to remain strictly between us."

Belle nodded. "Do you watch her very often?"

"Ah, on occasion. She's probably the only one in town who gets excited to see me."

Belle nudged him. "I can think of someone else who does, can't you?"

Gold smiled, feeling foolish, silly in the best of ways. He reached and stroked his fingertips over Belle's exposed forearm, ending the gentle caress by grasping her hand, again stroking the pad of his thumb over the backs of his fingers.

From the other side of the curtain, a whining little voice began to cry.

"Ah, duty calls. Excuse me."

Mr. Gold let go of her hand and limped past the curtain. Belle watched as he bent over the carrier, uncoupling the strap and lifting the baby out of the seat.

Her crying had stopped as soon as he lifted her, and Belle could hear him humming, his voice lower than his usual timber as his hands were careful to secure the wriggling body against his chest and shoulder.

"There we are, lass. Calm it down, now. Just a bad dream, eh?" The baby was too young to speak, but she murmured something in reply to the man, and he smiled as she settled down.

Gold held her, which it seemed was all the baby had wanted after waking in a strange place. Belle remained standing in the doorway, feeling out of place, like she was invading on some private moment. But Mr. Gold was not a father, the baby he held was not his child.

He turned to look at her. "Would you like to hold her?"

"Oh, please." Belle smiled and reached for the chubby toddler, but to her surprise, the baby gave a displeased squeal and held tighter to Mr. Gold, burying her face into his chest, hiding.

"Oh, she doesn't like me."

It stung her pride to be rejected by this baby who found more comfort in the arms of the town terror than in the arms of a woman.

"No, no, she's just grumpy when she wakes up. Sometimes she can be shy." Gold reassured her, cradling the girl to his chest and stroking her back. "It takes time for her to warm up to strangers."

Belle watched as Mr. Gold simply held the child, swaying slightly and humming again. The baby leaned back to look at him, and her little hands began groping at his face, grasping at his mouth and nose. Gold closed an eye to avoid her probing fingers.

There was a strange lurching in her chest at the sight of Mr. Gold with the toddler. It made her eyes sting with tears and her lips curl into a smile. It had to be her hormones, her maternal instincts rising at the sight of a man, _this_ man, holding a baby with such care.

Gold hummed at the child and thankfully refrained from any baby-talk nonsense, "Easy, now. Miss French is a friend. Your father is coming, love. No worries, he wouldn't leave you here at the shop."

The man secured her in his arm and moved to the front of the shop before setting her down on the floor so that she might stretch her legs a bit now that she'd woke from her nap.

Belle watched from the doorway that connected the front and the back room of the shop, curious about this pup of a person who was just standing there on the floor in her little pink t-shirt and yellow shorts. The baby stood, one hand crammed into her mouth, drooling as her eyes wandered her surroundings, seeing more than a million things within reach to touch and taste.

Then, the baby looked up at Mr. Gold and her face lit up in a gummy smile, revealing a few teeth, and she did an odd, bouncy little dance. Clearly, she was happy to see the man and clearly, she wouldn't react this way if she wasn't familiar with him.

Gold reached down and let her hold one of his fingers in her tiny hand, and began to lead her on a walk about the shop floor. "The shop isn't baby-proof. I usually have her at the house." He told Belle.

"Usually?" She pressed.

"Ah, I might watch her a bit more than just occasionally...it's been twice a month for the past seven months, now." He confessed.

"Really? I had no idea."

"Yes, well, even monsters can have their moments."

"You're not a monster, Mr. Gold." Belle insisted. "Even the baby knows it."

Gold circled the shop floor with the toddler several times as he spoke with Belle, their usual ease with each other in place despite the toddler who held most of his attention.

"Miss French, would you like to come over to my house this weekend? I have - oof!"

The baby, who had been walking just beside Gold's right leg, chose that moment to charge forward, lunging against his cane and throwing him off-balance. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep from falling to the floor.

His cane clattered to the ground and the baby, startled by the noise, began to cry.

Belle swooped in, picking the baby up along with his cane. She handed the cane back to Mr. Gold, who righted himself, though he was clearly embarrassed by his loss of balance.

Belle didn't pay much attention to the flaming color over his cheekbones, her focus was instead centered on the wriggling toddler in her arms. The baby squealed and fussed, writhing, but went still as Belle began to hum at her just as Mr. Gold had done minutes earlier.

Gold watched fondly as the baby quieted in Belle's arms, the child seeming suddenly entranced by the new face before her.

Belle smiled and looked at Gold. "I guess she likes me after all."

And that's when the baby chose to reach forward and poke Belle in the eye. Belle yelped and turned her face away, but her secure grip on the child didn't waver. "Ow!"

"Miss French, perhaps I'll just..." Gold let the offer to take the baby hang in the air between them. He didn't want to imply that Belle had no affinity for toddlers, it was only that he clearly had more experience.

"Yes, that might be a good idea." Belle laughed in good-nature. Her left eye was red and teary, the toddler had been rough on them both. "I guess being a woman doesn't give me any automatic advantage when it comes to kids."

"Everything will come in time, Miss French." He reassured her as he took the baby.

Just then the shop door opened and a harried young man in a summer weight suit of pale grey came inside. Belle immediately took a step back, distancing herself from Mr. Gold in an attempt to make herself look like just another browsing customer.

"Gold, thank you so much, the damn court line took longer than I'd thought it would."

Ah, the baby's father had come back. Belle picked up a little curio and pretended to look it over, when really she was studying this man who trusted Mr. Gold with his child. He was handsome, and clearly trying to make the best of the daily stresses put on him as a single father.

Belle wondered what had become of the girl's mother, and if he was in the lookout for a woman to play stepmother any time soon.

The baby writhed in Mr. Gold's arms, so the man set her down and she rushed over to her father, gripping him about the knees, murmuring "Da, da, da". He bent to pick her up, nuzzling her cheek and making the baby giggle.

It was adorable to see, and Belle did not miss the longing expression on Mr. Gold's face as he watched them.

"It was no trouble." Mr. Gold said to the younger man.

Belle went on browsing through the shop as Mr. Gold went over all that had gone on with the baby, leaving out her nearly bringing him to his knees and not mentioning Belle at all.

The man, who Gold only addressed as Jefferson, made quick work of securing the girl back into her carrier and leaving, very thankful for his friend's help.

"She's a sweetie." Belle said once the pair had left, babbling happily to each other.

Gold looked down, frowning at his cane. "She is. He's lucky."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine...just not used to being toppled by toddlers." Gold said, the false smile sliding from his face. He'd learned to live with his injury, and though Belle had accepted it as just another part of him, he was still loathe to have shown weakness before her in such a way.

_The fearsome Mr. Gold, brought to his knees by a toddler._

The woman shook her head, understanding his embarrassment but not sure how to help. "Shes stronger than she looks, she just caught you off-guard, the sneaky thing." He didn't smile at that, so she jumped onto another subject.

From there, they went on to talk of the usual goings-on about town.

Mr. Gold did not try again to invite her to his house.

Belle pretended not to notice.

* * *

><p>It was three weeks after their afternoon adventure to Sunshire, with their routine more or less reestablished. Gold had not kissed Belle's hand again - or any other part of her, much to their shared regret. They still saw each other at the library and met at his shop to talk, but there was a distinct change between them. Looks that lingered, soft touches to his bare hand and clothed shoulder, softer touches to the small of her back.<p>

Belle had stopped seeing him during her lunch breaks, instead she'd taken to visiting just at the shop's closing. This way, there was less of a stress on their time together. Less of a chance that someone would see them together and spread a story that would stretch on to the depraved with each retelling.

Sipping tea, a blend of his own (plain China green tea on his doctor's recommendation to maintain his health, though he would have preferred one of Belle's more exotic blends), Gold looked out the window, to the construction outside of her apartment building.

Florence & The Machine was on the sound system, the volume turned low on_ Seven Devils_ so they might concentrate on the checker board.

Gold eyed the work that'd already begun on the building just days ago. "Looks like they're taking your whole building apart over there."

Belle set her cup aside and pondered the board before her. It was late, late enough for the shop to be closed, but not so late that Gold was ready to forfeit their game of checkers. He wouldn't let her leave now even if she'd wanted to.

In her early explorations of the back room, Belle had found the game gathering dust on a shelf and asked that Mr. Gold play her. In the months of their friendship, they had gone to war on the board several times and though Belle had come close, she had yet to best him.

So there they were, playing on the counter after hours. Belle hadn't realized how competitive the man was, he'd even woven a deal into the outcome of their game: if (_when_) he beat her, she would come over to make him a meal in his home. Gold confessed to having grown spoiled by the lunches she often brought into the shop, which was something of a compliment, really.

And if, _by some miracle_ (his words, Belle had only rolled her eyes at his arrogance) she beat him, then she was clearly ready for a new challenge and he would teach her to play chess.

Like all his deals, this friendly wager would favor him, no matter the outcome.

"Just about, yes." Belle nodded and counted off on her fingers, "Last I heard, they're rewiring the electrical system, refitting most of the plumbing, all of the units will be getting upgraded appliances, new carpeting and repainted, there's going to be a renovation of the lobby floor and some foundation work, I think. The building needs it though, it'll be beautiful when they finish. And me, I'd rather be out of my place for a time than see them bulldoze whole block."

Gold lifted an eyebrow at her, "You're not there?"

Belle tucked a curl behind her ear, "I can't, they'll be cutting off the power and water for days at a time, and then working with heavy chemicals so it's not safe. I'm out for a few weeks at least, most of the other tenants are already over at Granny's. Ruby told me it's the first time the inn has been fully booked in years."

Gold's ears pricked up at the news, his thoughts flying immediately to his hunger for more of her company. _More. Oh, yes_.

"I have a few spare rooms, you can stay with me." He gave the offer so freely that she might have thought he didn't care one way or the other, as was his intent. He moved a black checker and glanced up to find her watching him.

Belle reached across the board to put her hand over his, "Thank you, that's very generous Mr. Gold, but I've already gone back to staying at my father's."

Disappointed, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snidely reminding her to hide her jewelry, but was thankfully interrupted by a few hard knocks at the front door. Ah, there always seemed to be someone about to break their moments together.

Belle's irritated expression perfectly echoed his own feelings as he gestured for her to go into the back room while he attended to whoever had come knocking at the front.

The woman was used to it by now.

Still, it was late, and Belle had to wonder who would be coming over now to deal with Mr. Gold rather than during his regular business hours. The rumors that surrounded Gold, all of his secret dealings, the proof was here tonight.

She could hear his accented voice and the voice of another man though she could not distinguish who it might be. For a moment, she thought that the voice was similar to those of both Dr. Whale and David Nolan.

But Belle refused to eavesdrop on the men, whatever they were discussing was not her business, and she would rather turn a blind eye - or ear, in this case - to any of Mr. Gold's private dealings that might ruin the image of him she would like to hold onto for a bit longer. Just as she would prefer for him to think of her in the best way, rather than for him to see the flaws she fought to keep hidden.

Venturing further into the back room, Belle took a picture of one of the newly restored paintings set aside for a private buyer in Philadelphia, and set it to be the background screen of her cell phone. There was plenty to look at, to be sure, but she was more interested in the man than in his latest tinkering projects.

She could still hear Mr. Gold talking with the man up front, so she sat down, leaning back slightly against the headboard of the little bed he kept in the back room and glanced through her texts. It had been a long, stressful week. She, Ruby and a few others had plans to run amok the following night - a girls' night out would be perfect but for now...

Distantly, she felt something gently trace down over the curve of her cheek. She twitched, trying to ignore it, but then felt a hand on her shoulder, giving a shake to pull her awake. "...Belle...Belle..."

Belle started awake, blinking to find Mr. Gold sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, his hip resting just next to her thigh. "Oh, Mr. Gold."

"That business up front took longer than it should have, I see you've made yourself comfortable."

Belle shifted on the little bed, sitting up straighter and reached for her cell, she'd dropped it in her lap. Checking the time, she was surprised to see that she must have been sleeping for nearly an hour!

"Oh, God, Mr. Gold, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

He shook his head, "It's quite all right. I knew you'd get bored of me sooner or later, but I didn't think I was so boring I put you to sleep."

Belle laughed. "Oh, stop it. You know I don't think you're boring. You're the most interesting man in the world to me." She reminded him. "I've just been having a hard time sleeping."

He looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I...yes, I'm sorry, it's just been a long week. I sat down for a second and I was out like a light." Belle laughed with a quick snap of her fingers, hoping her smile hid her embarrassment.

_Falling asleep in the back of the shop, what was I thinking? Why not just stretch out to take a nap on the front counter while I'm at it?_

"Quite all right. I was thinking of turning the back room into a B&B, maybe give Granny's a bit of competition." He mused, still seated beside her.

"I'll be your first customer, this bed is irresistible." Belle patted the mattress. "Who did it belong to?"

"I moved it from my house."

"This is yours?"

Gold nodded, "Several years ago I was doing some rearranging and I didn't want it in the house any longer, but all the same I couldn't part with it. Nowadays I just use it when I need to rest the leg." He shrugged and tapped the floor with his cane.

"Your old war wound?" She asked carefully.

The reason behind Gold's limp was still a mystery, but Belle had learned that he wasn't so sensitive that the topic was off-limits. He'd even let her try walking about the front of the shop with his cane a few times so she could know what it was like.

"Something like that." Gold stood and offered his hand. Belle put her hand in his and let him pull her to stand from the bed. "Come on, it's late. I'll give you a ride to your father's."

Belle shook her head, "You don't have to do that."

"It's late. I'll drive you." His voice was firm, there would be no argument here.

* * *

><p>After closing up the shop, it was an easy drive to Moe French's tired little house on the southern stretch of Storybrooke. The town itself wasn't a place of great flashes of wealth; Storybrooke was quaint, simple, modest. Aside from Mr. Gold and the mayor, those who made up the tiny, wealthier area of the town were made up of only a handful of lawyers, doctors and retirees who mostly kept to themselves.<p>

Still, French's house was in the poorest of the poor blocks, a shabby little three bedroom house that had seen much better days. The house itself had potential, but had suffered the neglect of its owner for over a decade, leaving it badly in need of proper maintenance and landscaping care.

Gold didn't like to think of Belle being in this neighborhood, but then again, she had grown up here, and had already made her choice to stay for the time being. She could handle herself, brave little thing that she was.

He parked just before the driveway to her father's house and turned to her. "End of the line, Miss French."

In the dark, he could not make out her features but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Kicking me out?"

"Afraid so."

Belle reached over and touched his shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Gold, I appreciate the lift."

"My pleasure."

"Have a good night." Belle grabbed her purse and unbuckled her seat belt.

"You do the same - and, Miss French?"

"Hmm?"

"It would be better if your whereabouts tonight remained between us."

Belle faltered at the reminder. "I-I understand."

"Thank you. Good night Miss French."

Gold waited in the driver's seat, the engine idling. He would not drive off until he saw her enter the house. It was a small thing to drive her home, and if it painted him in a chivalrous light, Gold wasn't too proud to use that to his advantage.

He watched as she approached the little house, but she stopped short just before pushing through the front door. Rather than go inside, Belle turned back to approach the car once again. Gold lowered the window, "Did you forget something?"

Belle shook her head. "Can I...is your offer still on the table?"

"What offer?"

Belle glanced over her shoulder, back to the house, then back to him. "You said you have a spare room - it'd just be for tonight."

Gold nodded, beckoning her to retake her seat. "Of course, is everything all right?"

Belle slipped back into the car, "Um, yeah, yes, Mr. Gold. Everything's fine. I just forgot it's poker night, when dad has his friends over things can get pretty rowdy and I never get any sleep."

He looked at her, sitting there beside him in the dark, her face barely visible in the illumination of the street lights outside. Belle was obviously lying to him, but Gold didn't mind that. Now that he'd lowered the window, he could hear loud music and the rowdy laughing, cursing and carrying on of men and women from inside the house.

"If you're sure, Miss French."

Here, she turned to look at him. "Please?"

Mr. Gold said nothing, but he threw the Cadillac into gear, and headed toward his house.

* * *

><p>The drive across Storybrooke was spent in silence. Avila sang out to them through the radio, a slow cover of <em>All Shook Up<em>, leaving them with their thoughts. Certainly, Gold had not expected Belle as his guest for the night, but he was excited to have her to himself. He didn't expect anything from her, it was only that his home was more secure than his shop as he rarely had visitors to the residence - God willing, they wouldn't be interrupted again.

Even Regina knew to keep her distance from his house unless he extended the invitation.

But he'd invited Belle, and she'd accepted his offer of hospitality because...well, because his house would be quieter than her father's on a Friday night, apparently.

Pulling the car to a stop in the drive, Gold lead Belle into the back entrance of his house, which opened into the kitchen. The man turned on the soft overhead light and set his keys on the counter, his friend trailing just a few feet behind.

He was happy to have Belle under his roof, with any luck it would reflect his visit to her apartment on the night of the storm. Mr. Gold, the man who dared to hope for a film followed by a warm cuddle on the sofa.

"A tea before bed, Miss French?"

"I - sure." Belle said in distraction as she turned in a circle, trying to look at everything all at once. "God, I can't believe I'm in your house."

Gold flashed a quick smile before retrieving his plain tea blend and a pair of cups from a cabinet beside the stove. He couldn't remember the last time one of his mugs had been joined by a sibling in use for a guest. It'd been over a year, he was sure of that.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Belle peering out the window to the backyard. It was too dark, though. There wouldn't be much she could see until the sun came up again in the morning.

He liked that, the thought of Belle in his garden. "And is my house everything you hoped it would be?"

"It's beautiful. I mean that, it's gorgeous. I love these Queen Anne houses, the bones alone are unmistakable." She told him as she ran her hand over the paneling of the back doors. It was one thing to pass by the house from the street, it was another to actually be inside with the man who owned it.

Gold shook his head, "I can't take much credit for that. All I've done since moving in is fill it with my collections."

"Your collections?"

Gold readied their cups and motioned for her to join him. Being in fine practice, they took the same positions as at his shop: Gold standing on one side of the counter with Belle perched on a barstool just across from him. "Oh, yes. Over the years I gained such an appetite for rare things that I had to open the shop just to keep track."

Belle took a tentative sip, letting the calm base flavor roll over her tongue. "You mean your shop is really just storage?"

Gold lifted his cup for a cheers, and Belle lightly tapped her cup to his. "Precisely."

"You just might be a hoarder."

Gold raised his brows at her, "I wouldn't go that far, everything I keep has value."

"All hoarders say that!" Belle laughed at him.

Smiling openly now, Gold dared her to let him prove the value of his collections. "Tomorrow I'll take you through the house, a little tour so you can see for yourself. Aside from the artwork and artifacts, I have a handful of first editions I know you'd appreciate."

"I wouldn't say no-" A yawn interrupted her words, the long week catching up with her again. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Gold looked concerned, and really, he was. That Belle would ask to stay with him rather than return to her father was enough reason to worry after the woman. But Belle had declared herself in need of a bed, and Gold would not keep her from it any longer, no matter that he would gladly sit and talk with her through the night.

"No need to apologize. You're tired, Miss French. Please, sit tight and I'll get your room ready."

Gold left Belle to her tea in the kitchen, making a quick stop to his own bedroom for a pair of pajamas and then went on up the stairs to the large bedroom he intended for her. He stood outside the closed door, then took a deep breath before entering _that_ room.

He opened the door and checked that there was no dust on the desk or nightstand, and that the bedding was fresh.

Good.

His cleaning service was earning its keep, and Belle deserved no less. He left the pajamas for her on the nightstand and returned to the kitchen to fetch his surprise guest.

* * *

><p>Belle narrowed her eyes as she paged through an old cookbook she'd pulled off a shelf. Many of the dinner recipes she'd looked over had handwritten notes in the margins, apparently enhancing dishes deemed too plain.<em><br>_

A dash of seasoning here, an extra tablespoon of cream there...Mr. Gold didn't strike her as being particularly creative in the kitchen, so who-?

But then she recalled that he'd been married before. These weren't his notes she was reading, they were his wife's.

Suddenly an old cookbook felt like something deeply personal, and she returned it. A moment later, Mr. Gold reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Miss French, if you'll follow me, please."

Belle hopped off the barstool and followed him upstairs to the second floor, down a dimly lit hallway, to the third door on the right. Her eyes were hungry for details, but there were none. The walls of the staircase and the hallway were painted a tasteful cream, lined with dark stained wood wainscoting. But there were no pictures to look at, no paintings or photographs. Strange that a man of numerous collections would keep the walls so bare.

She eyed his cane as she followed him. Perhaps he didn't spend much time upstairs, and she wondered guiltily if his leg was pained now, from going up and down the stairs to make sure she had a comfortable place to sleep.

"It's just through there." He said, standing outside the open door. Gold did not put a toe across the threshold as Belle moved into the room.

"Oh, wow! This is beautiful!" Belle gushed as she took it all in.

Dark wood floors matched the wainscoting throughout the house, the upper walls were painted a soft baby blue. A bay window was on the wall opposite to her, she could see down the street from that view.

Moving further into the room, Belle saw that a door lead into an empty walk-in closet, while another lead into what she presumed was a bathroom. A lovely desk and chair were set against the wall, but the star of this bedroom was the bed itself. A high queen on a dark wood frame, the headboard carved with leaves and swirling vines. The comforter atop the bed was white goosedown, as were the matching pillows. A faux fur throw of silver grey was folded at the foot of the bed.

"Again, I can't take any credit. I didn't decorate it, I've just kept it maintained over the years. You can wear those tonight." He offered, gesturing into the room.

Belle stepped over and found a pair of men's pajamas neatly folded atop the nightstand, a dark royal blue. She turned back to him, "For me?"

"You've only the clothes on your back."

For a flash, Belle was tempted to tell him that she preferred to sleep in the nude, but given the tension between them lately she kept her mouth shut. The woman was so drawn to him, she would welcome it if he came to her with more carnal intentions, but the longer he waited in expressing himself outright, the more Belle began to wonder if she'd built things between them too far up in her own imaginings.

Mr. Gold may be too important a man, and too dignified besides, to bother with anything more serious than bedding someone like her for a brief time.

Belle didn't believe she deserved much out of life, but she deserved more than that.

"They won't fit, but they'll do for tonight, yes?"

Gold's question pulled Belle out of her thoughts, snapping her back into the moment. She ran her fingers over the fine cotton and was not surprised at its softness - Mr. Gold took great pride in how he dressed, of course that same care would extend to his sleepwear. "You're right, these won't fit, but this color will definitely bring out my eyes."

Gold didn't understand why that would matter, but then again, Belle did like to joke with him. "Very important for sleepwear." He drawled.

"A girl has to keep her priorities. Thank you so much Mr. Gold."

Belle did something on impulse then, something she'd been wanting to do for so long but there never seemed an appropriate moment to do so. Well. The man had opened his home to her, this temple of charm and art, and he was her friend, besides.

Before he could turn down the hallway, Belle stepped in and twined her arms around his waist, drawing him close for a tight embrace. Belle pressed in to him, and she was relieved that the man returned her hug rather than just stand rigid; she felt one of his hands span across the middle of her back while the other remained at his side, gripping the cane.

After several warm moments, Mr. Gold pulled back from her, his hand sliding down to rest on the dip of her waist before he reached to hold her hand, his fingers squeezing hers gently. Their hug was a brief embrace, and Belle couldn't expect anything more than that.

Still, tonight was a landmark.

Mr. Gold stood before her, so close, his eyes roaming her face. Perhaps he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he told her instead, "I'm in the room just below if you need anything."

He lifted her hand, kissing her again. It was not the chaste kiss to her knuckles from that night outside her apartment with half the town watching. Mr. Gold stroked over her fingers with his thumb, then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. His lips, his breath was hot over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine and a wave of gooseflesh to rise over her body entire. Still holding her hand, he turned it, then kissed the cup of her palm, and then another, softer kiss to the pulse point in her wrist.

"Good night, Miss French."

Belle could barely hear herself answering "Good night, Mr. Gold" over the blood throbbing through her. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on her hand, the gentle strength of his grasp.

_This man..._

Belle lingered in the doorway, watching as he moved down the corridor and out of sight. She turned to the room, closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Mr. Gold could excite her so quickly, with just a few kisses to her hand. Belle felt her face on fire, heat flooding through her body with arousal. She fanned her face, wondering what she should do, if anything.

_I should chase him downstairs and jump into his bed_, Belle thought wildly. _  
><em>

She shook her head, laughing at herself. Trying to dispel the heat lingering in her cheeks, she stepped into the bathroom, surprised to find double sinks, and splashed cold water on her face, trying to focus.

_Mr. Gold cares for you, and he may want you, but don't let yourself assume anything_. Belle reminded herself.

She rubbed a hand over her face and, yawning again, Belle changed out of her clothes, stripping down to just her panties before putting on Gold's pajamas, enveloping herself in his softness and scent. Looking herself over in the mirror, she found she was right - his pajamas were too big, but their color did make her eyes look even brighter.

Belle looked over the handful of books that lined a shelf on the desk set against the far wall, noting that all of the spines were cracked from repeated readings, the pages long since yellowed with age. She was an avid reader, but Belle's eyes were so tired; she wouldn't be starting any novels tonight.

Instead, she tapped out a quick text to let her father know she was staying overnight with a friend, careful as always to leave Mr. Gold's name out of it. Not that it mattered; she was sure that Moe was so far into his drinks and games by now that he wouldn't even bother to check his phone until later on the next day.

As for Mr. Gold, the man had opened his home to her, but he also valued his privacy and was quite formal - he would not want it known to others that he'd had her overnight in his house, no matter how innocent this had all been.

She put her cell back into her purse and killed the lights, getting under the covers. She sighed happily, reveling in her infatuation, recalling those fleeting moments when he would look at her or say something that gave her a spark of hope that they could have something real.

It was a dim spark, however. Mr. Gold was so formal that they had known each other for over a year and she could count on one hand the number of times that he'd called her Belle, and each time he had caught himself, apologized and resumed calling her Miss French.

And Belle was sure she had never even learned his first name - how odd!

Yes their situation was so odd, but Belle liked it and she liked him. He was so dignified, with his old world roots and his sharp suits and even sharper mind. Belle was sure she'd learned more in her secret visits with him than she had in all the books she'd read at the library. He was endlessly fascinating to her.

She thought back to the day he'd insisted that she try on the Grecian necklace. For a few thrilling moments, the man had seemed so intense, as if he'd been barely able to restrain himself from pouncing on her. And she wouldn't have put up a fight if he had. She would have welcomed him...but could he want her for anything meaningful?

Belle knew she was beautiful in his eyes, but she wasn't stupid. In the past, Gold had treated her with such polite distance, save for the odd dark look here and there, that she had been sure he'd no interest in making much room in his life for someone like her.

But now, after their last few visits...who could say?

Mr. Gold was a difficult man to read. He would flirt with her, but never cross the line. He would do everything just short of expressing something real, but then he would pull back, and that wall, that invisible gulf between them would open again. It was a cycle of off-balance moves, she could never be sure where the man stood.

Belle was tired of it, to be sure, but mostly she was just tired.

The bed was pulling her deeper and deeper into sleep.

Soon, Belle had slipped into the cradle of her dreams, with Mr. Gold holding her in his arms.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, just a floor below his surprise houseguest, Gold was very slow in undressing himself once he retired to his bedroom. His movements were deliberately slow in the half-hope that Belle would come down, needing something from him. He had no desire for her to see him wearing pajamas near identical to the pair he'd leant to her; without his suits, his formal armor, he only appeared slighter and with his cane, he worried he would become wholly frail in her eyes. If however, she were to knock on the door and he answered her without his jacket, waistcoat or tie, he could at least still hide behind the exquisite tailoring of his shirt and trousers.<p>

Ridiculous, but he was as insecure as anyone when faced with an infatuation.

Two hours after having left Belle to the guest room, which in actual fact had been the room he'd once shared with his wife, Gold had changed into his pajamas and was staring at the television with blank eyes. God knows he couldn't concentrate on the show playing when Belle was upstairs, in the room just above his head.

What was she doing up there, if she wasn't already asleep? Was she reading? There were a few books in the desk - a mix of his mysteries and Milah's biographies. Whatever she was doing, Belle wasn't in bed with him.

The man tried not to think of her in such a vulgar way, riding atop him with true abandon or on her knees, eagerly taking him between her lips, but that part of his mind would not allow such thoughts to be shut out.

_He wanted her._

Not only as a lover, but with him, in his house, in his life.

His control was eroding, it had been ever since the day she'd fluttered into his shop and found a way to befriend him. He could feel bits of it slip away with every hour they spent together.

He shouldn't have kissed her hand again, at least, not in the way he'd kissed it. He'd held her hand too long, stroking her fingers, letting his eyes linger on the matte shamrock green polish of her manicure. Then, he'd kissed the back of her hand, her palm and her pulse. He let his lips linger over her skin, breathing in her scent, taking her into himself.

He shouldn't have kissed her hand, but he couldn't regret it, either. Not when he'd seen her eyes go dark, the flush that colored her cheeks. His advances, subtle as they were, excited her.

He heard a soft _creak_, then another and another, moving above his room. Footsteps. Belle was awake, but her movements were confined to the bedroom above his. She did not open the door. She did not come to him.

_ It's just as well_, he decided.

She might indulge him for a bit, out of curiosity or perhaps her own infatuation - but Gold would rather they continue with their clandestine friendship than have an affair that would only end in an awkward parting of ways with no chance of reconciling.

Still it was too tempting not to think on, what she might look like under her demure dresses, how soft her skin must be. He was helpless to his imagination, his mind speculating on every inch of the woman.

That hug she's pulled him into wasn't helping anything, either. He hadn't expected that. It had been a surprise, but even more dangerous had been his own reaction: he'd not been embraced in years, and damn her, she'd drawn him in and he'd been helpless to resist, absorbed in the moment, her heat, her scent.

Absently, Gold reached down to cup himself, stroking softly to ease the edge of his arousal at the memory of her...

He was making far too much of a hug, he knew, and it was only further proof that the distance he'd put between himself and everyone else was doing him harm. Perhaps if he allowed more than just the occasional handshake, he wouldn't be obsessing for so long over a few seconds of embracing contact. But he had no interest in embracing anyone but Belle.

Gold cursed himself, wishing for a leap of courage where the woman was concerned.

* * *

><p>The man had fallen asleep atop the covers of his bed, visions of Belle never far from his mind. Noting the time when he awoke, he hurried to ready himself for the day. He would make Belle breakfast, or just tea or coffee if she wasn't hungry, then he would drive her to the library.<p>

Gold was quick in his shower and shave, careful to select his finest suit and pairing it with a red shirt she'd once said she liked on him. He stepped into the kitchen, wondering if he should go upstairs to rouse her. His grip on the cane tightened at the thought of going to Belle, of finding her in the bed upstairs, wearing his pajamas or better yet, nothing at all.

What would she do, if he came into the room to wake her?

Would she shy away or pull him into a kiss?

Demand that he pleasure her or give him a sound slap for even thinking such a thing?

Gold shook himself out of those thoughts, feeling a flash of shame.

No, no, better to let her wake and come downstairs in her own time.

Gold set out the kettle and two cups when he noticed the paper left on the counter in familiar handwriting.

**Mr. Gold, **

**I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay the night. I'm sorry to have left without saying goodbye but I needed to run home to change clothes before going in to work - the library opens earlier on Saturdays, if you remember. I would like to thank you for your hospitality later today, and will visit you at the shop around 1 if you're in.**

**PS - I took your pajamas with me and you're not getting them back!**

**Belle**

Gold actually laughed at that sassy post script.

_Who is this girl?_

* * *

><p>Belle didn't mind walking. Storybrooke wasn't a one-horse town by any means, but the walk from Mr. Gold's house to the house of her father wasn't more than a few miles. She liked the fresh air, but she would have preferred fresh clothes rather than her wrinkled work clothes from the day before. Luckily she'd worn her flats rather than a pair of heels. Checking her watch, Belle hurried the last few blocks and made her way in through the back door.<p>

The stench of alcohol, marijuana and stale cigarettes greeted her, deepening her irritation, but Belle didn't have time to start on the mess. The house looked like a white-trash bomb went off in it; beer cans and bottles rested on every flat surface, there were overflowing ashtrays strewn about the living room and the kitchen counters. On the pull-out sofa was one of the women her father had briefly dated over the years, Connie Stewart. Sleeping in the recliner was one of her father's poker buddies, though she couldn't recall his name.

Moe French had had people drifting in and out of his house for years, Belle had stopped trying to be polite and learn their names. They were all trash, so what did it matter?

Belle hustled to her old bedroom, scowling to find yet another man sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly. She'd wager that whoever it was would have one hell of a hangover when he woke up. But again, there was no time. Belle grabbed for her duffel bag, shoved Gold's pajamas into an interior pocket and then took it into the bathroom to make a quick change.

The clothes inside were clean, but it was her last outfit since everything else was in the wash. She worried that the poker night stench would cling to her hair and clothes, even being in the house for so brief a time. _Christ, I hate it here_, she thought in irritation as she hurriedly brushed her teeth and swept her hair into a high ponytail. She made a mental note to spray herself down with Febreeze and her own perfume just in case before starting her shift at the library.

She emerged from the bathroom in a pair of dark skinny jeans, a pink tunic blouse she'd cinched with a leather belt and her same flats from the day before.

Checking her watch, Belle took up her purse again and rushed out the door.

* * *

><p>Just as her shift had started, Belle had seen Mr. Gold open his shop. They'd waved to each other from across the street, but Belle hadn't been able to get away to greet him before two that afternoon.<p>

It had been late for lunch, and later than the time she'd mentioned in her note, but she'd promised to repay his generosity from the night before.

At 2:15pm, Belle strode out of Granny's with a sandwich to share with Mr. Gold, a holdover gift to him until she could get back to her father's neglected kitchen and bring the man a home-cooked meal.

Crossing the street, she felt an uncomfortable tightening in her belly, the worry that he saw her departure that morning as rude. If the library hadn't opened so early on Saturdays then of course Belle would have waited for Mr. Gold to come out of his room. She was in no position to risk her job by coming in late and she knew Mr. Gold wouldn't have appreciated her entering his bedroom without permission. They were close, but that would have crossed a line.

Belle neared the man's pawn shop but saw that it was closed - the sign on the door advising any customers to return at a later time.

She was disappointed to find the shop closed, but reminded herself that Mr. Gold was likely about town, making his rounds to collect from his clients. He had no need to visit his tenants in person, Belle knew, but she suspected that the man had grown bored with tinkering about in the shop mostly by himself all day for hours on end. Getting out into the air and seeing people, even if only to harass them for money owed, might be the highlight of his days.

Belle shrugged off his absence and returned to work for several more hours, losing herself in the stacks until Ruby slid in just as she was closing up.

Ruby waggled her eyebrows at her, "We're still on for the Rabbit Hole, right?"

Belle smiled, already excited. "You know it. God, I need a night out like you wouldn't believe!"

"In that case, be my doll tonight! Let me do your makeup."

"Only if you promise to do my eyes like yours, I love that smokey look you do but I can never get it right on myself." Belle said as she locked the double doors to the library, testing the lock and following her friend down the sidewalk.

Ruby grinned at the compliment. "It takes a while to get the hang of it, but of course I'll do yours. You know, sometimes it's easier to do on someone else." She glanced down the street to Belle's apartment building. "How much longer until your place is finished?"

Belle groaned. "No definite date, but it'll be at least another month. Maybe two. All my clothes are still at dad's, and that's the last place I want to go".

Ruby understood her friend's frustration; Belle worked at the library, volunteered at Game of Thorns just to keep the shop from shutting down, and when her money ran low she scrambled all over town for extra work. She had so little to show for her efforts - barely more than a tiny apartment to call her own, but now she didn't even have that!

"Well, tonight you won't have to." Ruby declared. If she could spare her friend having to spend any more time with her obnoxious father, then of course she would. "You can borrow a dress and a pair of heels, but I draw the line at bras and thongs!"

"Good thing I brought my own!" Belle laughed, nudging her as they crossed over to the room at Granny's that had belonged to Ruby for the past serval years.

Against her grandmother's wishes, Ruby had taken special efforts to mark her territory. On moving in, she'd painted her walls a soft pink and added matte black wainscoting with matching black curtains to the twin windows that looked out over the little courtyard of the inn. There were faded pictures of her parents, God rest them, and a few random black and white prints of the Eiffel Tower, Audrey Hepburn and a forest landscape.

Ruby opened her crammed closet and took out a few options for Belle to wear for the night. One was a tight, strapless red tube dress with a slit up the side, the next a shimmery green top cut so low that Belle couldn't help but fear her breasts would fall out for the whole club to see. The last was a short, sequined dress of midnight blue. It was scandalous, to be sure, short, tight and low, but Belle liked it the best of the bunch.

"I knew you'd like that one!" Ruby smiled. "It's all yours."

"I love it!"

"Great, put it on and then sit over there so I make a dishonest woman out of you."

Together, the two friends changed their clothes, arranged their hair and applied makeup, lining their eyes, painting their lips - shedding their daily faces to become women of the night.

Once Ruby had finished, Belle looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but to exclaim, "Whoa! Oh my God, I look great!"

Belle leaned in closer to the mirror, taking it all in. The short, sequined dress clung to the tight dip of her waist, while its low neckline showed off the cleavage presented by her own favorite lace bra. Ruby's black tights were artfully ripped, giving the wild illusion of tiger stripes running across her legs, which seemed miles long thanks to the sky-high stilettos. It was a lucky thing that she and Ruby wore the same size in shoes.

Her hair was pinned up, her makeup deep and sultry, a shimmery charcoal lining her eyes, lashes heavy with mascara, her lips a bright scarlet.

Belle looked wild and sexy, and she was starting to _feel_ it. She grinned and winked at her reflection, flirting with herself.

All at once, Belle felt charged, ready to tear her way out of the inn, she wanted to fly away from the stacks and the stress of her apartment being ripped apart so that it could be built up again, she wanted away from her father's ruin of a life and away from Mr. Gold and everything he'd stirred inside her.

Belle just wanted _away_, she wanted to play pool and darts, to flirt with men, for them to buy her drinks and dance with her. She just wanted some fun, it was damn well overdue!

"I know, right? I don't just gild the lily, I drown it in glitter!" Ruby laughed as she replaced her makeup brushes in their case. She was meticulous in the care and organization of her beauty tools.

"God, you sure do." Belle agreed, looking closer at her painted lips. She turned to her friend, putting her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, eyes bright with excitement. "I'm ready to tear this town apart, Ruby."

Ruby smiled back to her, but then went still, her head cocked to the side, listening. "Do you hear that? It's Marcus, he's close."

Belle shook her head. "I don't hear anything, I-" She cut herself off, hearing the approaching rumble of his Mustang. "Never mind, I hear him now."

Ruby looked herself over one last time in the mirror. The she-wolf in red was ready to be let out of her cage.

"All right, grab your purse, lets get going."

Together, Ruby and Belle descended to the street to find Marcus behind the wheel with Shane moving out of the front seat to greet them. He kissed Belle's cheek and then Ruby's. "Ladies, you both look great."

"Thank you! You both look very handsome." Ruby said, tugging on Shane's sleeve. "You need to dance with me first, Garrison."

Shane took her hand and twirled Ruby right there on the sidewalk. "In that dress you can have anything you want."

From the driver's seat, Marcus watched them and turned to Belle. "If they dance first, that means it's you and me, B."

"Only if you can handle me, Marcus!"

Marcus scoffed at her challenge, boasting, "Hey, I can handle you, Ruby, Ashley and Jasmine all while blindfolded!"

Settling in the backseat with Shane, Ruby laughed at him. "We'll test your word on that when we get there."

"All right, hold on to your heels, ladies."

Together, the group sped off, Belle blissfully unaware of the irreparable change that loomed only hours before her.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I'm not exactly sure how, but this chapter got away from me in editing and doubled in length! I expect a review from every reader just for the size of this update!<p>

The scene with Belle, Gold and Jefferson's baby was inspired by a picture I found on Google of RC holding his daughter when she was a toddler and it just expanded from there - if only OUaT canon would give us cuddly Gold scenes, rather than this atrocity of a season in terms of backward character development.

Fingers crossed for the spring half of OUaT to repair all of the damage done to Rumbelle.


	15. The Sins of Her Father

The Rabbit Hole was the only one of Storybrooke's bars that had the insight to cater to a crowd other than the burly men who worked on the docks or down in the mines just outside of town.

Rather than a jukebox of classic rock and cliché country, The Rabbit Hole had attempted to mimic the nightclubs in New York and L.A., with current pop blasting through speakers and colorful strobe lights flashing over the dance floor that featured in the center of the club.

Of course, that had been when the club first opened, nearing twenty years in the past, before it had fallen on the neglected side. Weekend crowds of hard partying had done its damage, and a manager who would rather skim the club's profits than reinvest into the business had done the place no favors.

It was something of a seedy night spot, stinking of over a decades' worth of cheap cigarettes, with a dance floor damn near scratched bare and a sound system that could produce nothing but static during one of Maine's frequent harsh storms.

It wasn't the best place for young women to be alone, but with Marcus and Shane as their official escorts for the evening, and more of their male friends waiting inside, Belle and Ruby were perfectly safe to enjoy their night.

The club's sketchy aspects aside, the under-40 crowd kept coming in on the weekends, willing to drop bills on dollar shots and dance all night. When Marcus lead the way into the club, another group of their friends was already waiting for them inside, just as charged as they were, just as ready to dance the club into the ground.

Marcus didn't bother with greeting everyone, he left Shane to that and headed straight to the bar to make an order for their group. He returned a few minutes later bearing shots and a pitcher of beer to find that their women had run off to the dance floor, leaving the men happy to set up on the pool tables and commandeer the dart boards for themselves.

"Here," he called to Shane, and he handed him a glass of beer.

"Thanks. The girls are already on the floor." Shane told him, voice raised above the pounding of the music.

"It's all good, that's more for us." Eric called out as he waved them over to a pool table.

Marcus and Shane approached as he racked the balls. "God, just look at them - how did we ever get so lucky?" Eric asked, nudging Marcus.

They all looked over to the main floor to see Ruby, Belle, Jasmine, Ashley and Ariel dancing, all of them poured into tight, colorful dresses, all of them looking wild and undone and so happy to be free for a night.

Watching Ruby, Shane couldn't help but stare. She was the alpha female of their group, and no one could deny that. She was bolder, brighter than the others, fearless and direct. Just then she looked up and caught his eyes, and she motioned for him to come join her on the dance floor.

Shane took a shot from the tray Marcus had brought, and called to them, "Hey, I owe Ruby a dance. Be back in ten."

Chalking a cue, Phillip laughed. "Ruby will eat you alive, man!"

"Only if he plays his cards right." Marcus groused as he took a cue for himself and readied to take a shot for the corner pocket after breaking.

* * *

><p>Shane approached the dance floor, laughing inside at the memories of his younger self in high school, so awkward, so terrified of anything female. Back then, as a freshman, he hadn't known anything about himself, let alone about girls, so to even dream of what he was doing now, daring to approach an entire flock of women, had been a flash of insanity.<p>

_What a difference a day makes,_ he thought with a rueful smile.

There they were, Ruby in her signature color and towering heels; Belle to her left in a short dress of blue sequins; Ariel had wrapped herself in green satin that set her striking hair on fire; Ashley, a bubbly, petite blonde was dancing with Jasmine, her exotic looks set off by her gold bandage dress. They were all so different in looks and stature, all of them gorgeous, all of them drawing looks of envy and lust from the other men in the club, and only Shane was brave enough to dare approach them.

It was the very definition of irony, but what did he care? His ladies were on fire for him. He had only dated Belle and Ruby for a few months each during their senior year of high school, and had things been different, he might have worked his way through the entire group...but Fate had intervened. None of the beauties present were his type any longer, but there was nothing to prevent him from flirting.

Well aware of the jealous eyes in the crowd trained on him, Shane stepped up to Ruby and took her about the waist, his hands kneading her flesh as he pulled her close into a grinding, writhing, sexual frenzy of a dance that soon had them both blushing darker than the scarlet of her dress.

All around them, the other women went on dancing, all of them gorgeous and colorful and fun, but in the magic of this song, Ruby and Shane belonged to each other.

* * *

><p>Eric tapped Marcus on the shoulder, then directed his attention across the club where Shane and Ruby were grinding together on the dance floor. "Are you gonna let him get away with that?"<p>

Marcus set his cue aside, and gestured for Eric to follow him over there. "Hell, no!"

He was damned if he was going to let Shane have their women all to himself. A moment later, Marcus had sidled up to Belle and was dancing against her back, flashing mischievous looks to Shane between songs as Eric and Ariel began a dance of their own.

Pairing off, Jasmine and Ashley found other men to dance with. It seemed that Shane had set off a flood of men with the sudden courage to approach the floor.

The air was changing, growing hot with lust as the music pounded away, throbbing in their blood, enthralling them. The mens' hands were free to touch, the womens' bodies were inviting. Liquor was fueling their fun, the connection between the group growing stronger, the energy between them explosive.

Belle turned and put her arms around Marcus, then threw her head back to laugh at the lewd joke he'd shouted to her. He gave a nip to her exposed throat and then spun her as the music began to speed up, the base pounding deeper through their blood.

_Yes!_

_This_ had been what Belle craved, what she'd needed for weeks. A night out instead of spent in her bare apartment, stressing over bills. Pounding music, her friends there around her, a flashy outfit to embolden her, a handsome man to flirt and dance with; never mind that Marcus was the wrong man in so many ways - he was a man treating her like the woman she was, not a polite acquaintance never to be touched.

Nothing seemed to matter, her troubles were oblivion. Her stresses had flown away. The hands that held her were strong, secure, and not Mr. Gold's, but that was all right. The Rabbit Hole wasn't for a man like him, and maybe he wasn't for her, but that didn't matter tonight.

Tonight was fun and music and drinking and games and _God, how she'd needed this!_

The song set ended and as one the group moved back to the pool tables, racking balls and throwing darts, and the drinks kept coming. Phillip passed Belle a tequila shot, and he laughed at the face she pulled as it burned down her throat.

"You lightweight!"

She blinked away the tears in her eyes from the strong liquor. "Ugh, that was painful...give me another one."

Phillip laughed, but refused her the last shot on the tray, taking it himself. "No way, this one's mine. Looks like Marcus has something for you, though."

Marcus approached them and presented her with a mango margarita. "This reminded me of when I saw you all dressed up outside your place. Flower in your hair, lookin' all tropical. Bottoms up, sexy."

Belle laughed and sipped at it, thanking him. Her mind was already buzzing happily from the drink and the thrill of the night out. She remembered her dress, the makeup she'd worn that day, the flower, hell, even the manicure she'd indulged in for the occasion. "I did look great that night, didnt I?"

"Hell yeah." Marcus agreed as he took a long pull on his only beer for the night. After that bottle it would just be water or soda for him. "You always look cute, but that night? God, you looked good enough to turn me-"

"Then why didn't he kiss me?" Belle cut in. "I mean, _really_ kiss me?"

He narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the night he'd pulled up to find her on the sidewalk with Mr. Gold - but of course she couldn't be talking about him, the thought never even entered his mind.

"Oh, you mean your blind date? You said you hated that guy." Marcus said, recalling the list of grievances she'd had against her Internet match.

Belle blinked, knowing she'd already said too much. "I...yeah, you're right. That was an awful blind date. Never mind. Let me get you another drink."

"No, that's all right." He waved off her offer. "I'll have this one beer, but no more after that, someone has to take you wild things home. And there's no way I'm risking the car."

"Oh, sorry."

"I don't mind, I can drink another time. So, what's the matter, Belle? You lonely?"

_Lonely girl._

The drinks had loosened her tongue, but Belle still had her wits about her. She wanted to talk and Marcus wanted to listen; they could do both without Mr. Gold's name coming into it. "Yes, I'm lonely. That stupid nickname my mother gave me...but it's true. There's a man, Marcus."

His dark eyes widened in interest. "Anybody I know?" He asked, flexing an arm and flashing a smile.

Belle huffed a laugh. "It's not always about you, but in a perfect world I'd have ended up with either you or Shane."

"Um, perfect for who? I think we're pretty happy with who we're with now." He reminded her. "But go on, who's this guy? Another online match?"

"No, no. He's just...he's just a man I've come to know from the library. I won't say his name."

"Do I look like the town gossip to you?"

"No, but I can't risk it getting out."

Marcus nodded, "Sure, sure. I get it. So, what, is it all you or does he seem interested? You guys gone out or even talked about it yet?"

"I think he cares. He hasn't said anything, but the way he talks to me, the way he looks at me, it's all there. We...we went to lunch once, but that was weeks ago and we haven't gone out again since. He mentioned that he'd like me to come over to his house, but he hasn't invited me yet." Belle sighed.

"Let me guess, the right moment hasn't hit? Or, what, you're both just a little too shy to come right out and say it?" Marcus guessed.

Belle nodded. "Yes."

Marcus shrugged, reaching for a Coke instead of another beer. "I've been there, babe. It's torture, I know, seeing him and wanting to say something, to say _anything_, but there's this _thing_ inside of you that holds you back...I've been there, you know I've been there."

Belle nodded. Marcus's road to love had been much rougher than her own.

"I remember." There had been nights where Marcus, distraught, had spent the night at her place, needing someone to listen to his troubles just as she was confiding to him now. "But this is different-"

"No, it's not different. It's two people who are interested, who care about each other, but there are a hundred things keeping you apart, the main reason being that you're both too afraid to risk what you have by saying the wrong thing. Please, tell me how your situation is any different than mine was."

Belle watched him, damned if her friend hadn't hit the nail right on the head. "When you put it that way, you're right. There is no difference."

"You remember the advice you gave me? I remember I was crashing at your spot, just wrecked, and you told me that if I didn't take the chance, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. So I'll tell you the same thing now. Take the chance, Belle, or you'll regret it." Marcus threw up his hands. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Belle took a long pull on her drink, feeling the sweet burn all the way down into her belly. "It could ruin the friendship we've built so far, things become so uncomfortable between us that we avoid each other and I never see him again, then regret _that_ for the rest of my life and end up as the crazy cat lady of Storybrooke."

Marcus laughed. "Always the optimist, huh?"

Belle tapped her margarita to his Coke. "Cheers to silver linings, Marcus."

"Ah, come on, Belle, it's not so bad. You always have me and Shane." He said with a sly grin, reaching to trace the low neckline of her dress with his fingertip, just grazing the rounded flesh of her breasts.

Gooseflesh rose across her skin, but for once Belle didn't slap at him. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the fleeting touch. It had been so long since she'd felt the touch of a man, and it didn't matter how wrong it was for Marcus to touch her or worse, for her to enjoy it when Shane was just a pool table away and could see everything.

"Oh, you're the devil, Marcus." She leaned in for a hug and laughed against his throat.

"Why, yes I am."

He was happy to be a sounding board for his friend's troubles. God knew she'd helped him through plenty of harsh times over the years. That's what friends did for each other, but friends also served each other distractions to take their mind off the troubles that plagued them.

Marcus set his drink on the table and put his hands on her waist, feeling the heat of her flesh beneath the blue sequins. "Dance with me again?"

Belle smiled, her eyes bright. "You know it."

* * *

><p>The night had been everything that Belle had craved for weeks.<p>

Fried, salty bar food. Her favorite drinks. Loud, pounding music. Dart games. Pool. Sexy dancing. Laughing. Shameless flirting. Dozens of cell pictures destined to be posted online.

It would be a painful morning and they all knew it, but how could any of them have resisted the siren song of a night out with friends?

Oh, how Belle had craved it, the freedom from her real life, a joyful reprieve where she could just be young and wild for a night.

But her night, like all things, was coming to its natural end.

She, Ruby, Shane and Marcus were the only ones left of the group, the rest of whom had peeled off to get on home. Marcus dropped off Ruby first, watching as she strode from the car and on into the Inn, all confidence on her towering heels.

Shane, having been free to drink, and was something of a lightweight himself, had fallen asleep in the front seat of the Mustang. Belle climbed out of the car when Marcus pulled in front of her father's house and thanked him for the ride.

"Tonight was great, thank you so much, Marcus."

"Hey, tonight was your night, I was just along for the ride." He laughed to her.

"Take care of Shane," she reminded him. Marcus glanced over to see the other man snoring lightly in his seat.

"Oh, I'll take care of him, all right. I'm thinking death metal at top volume around seven tomorrow morning."

"You're evil! I'll see you later." She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"All right, babe, take it easy."

Belle waved as Marcus drove off, thankful for his offer of a ride. It was loud as all hell, but she loved his Mustang almost as much as he did. Almost. Marcus would marry that car if he could.

The red of his taillights faded down the block and turned off at the corner as he swept out of her neighborhood. She loved those men. Without them, their night out wouldn't have been the same.

Belle turned to walk up the path to her father's front door. She got closer but slowed her steps as she heard muffled voices. She glanced about, wondering if she was overhearing the neighbors, but no, the voices were coming from inside the house.

Whoever it was, it was another man. Belle stepped closer, dread rising in her chest as the voices became clearer to her ears. They weren't screaming, but anger was there in the harsh, snapping tones, even muffled through the walls. She recognized her father's voice, but the other...

_No_.

That voice had only ever been soft and teasing toward her. An Old World accent gentled with years spent in the States.

Belle swallowed, dread constricting inside of her.

It was Mr. Gold, but, _not_.

She stepped closer to the front door. It was already open, all she had to do was give it a gentle push, and it swung near silent on the hinges. As the door opened, his voice reached her, cracking through the air.

It couldn't be. Not him, it couldn't be his voice, so twisted and savage and fierce.

"I am not interested in apologies. Don't you understand?! She's gone, she's not coming back...it was his favorite and you ruined it!"

Feet like lead and pulse pounding, Belle turned the corner and found the men in the living room. Her stomach dropped at the sight of them. Her prayer - _Please, God, don't let it be him, please, anyone but him! - _had gone unanswered, ignored and mocked, because there he was.

It was Mr. Gold, his back turned to her as he stood over her father amid the ruin of the room. Moe was on the floor, his back against the overturned coffee table. There was a bruise on his cheek and he was cradling his left arm, snarling up at Gold.

"Gold, you son of a bitch-"

"What is going on here?"

Gold turned to face the new voice, the new threat, and Belle was startled when she saw him for the first time. His face was twisted into a fiery scowl, but more than that, he'd suffered from her father's fists as well. There was a cut on his lip, a bruise low on his jaw. The sleeve of his suit jacket was ripped at the seam, the first few buttons of his deep green shirt were torn away where her father had grabbed at him, revealing a strip of the undershirt just beneath it.

The man stared back at her, his eyes blank on her face, taking her for a stranger before recognition dawned on him, and his face immediately softened and shame rolled over him.

_Oh, Belle..._

At first he'd jumped to the assumption of her being one of Moe's barflies, but with realization, he recalled she had planned a night out with Miss Lucas.

Women tended to dress alike when they went out dancing, and he knew that when Miss Lucas lead the charge to the Rabbit Hole, her girlfriends fell in line and drew on their Saturday wicked, a slap in the face of what they wore for their Sunday best.

This all raced through his mind in a blink, but her dress wasn't important. What they were to each other...no. He couldn't let her distract him from what he'd come here to do.

Getting her away from him, from all of this, _that_ was what he needed to do now.

As Belle watched, Mr. Gold straightened his posture and took a few steps away from her father, who was now openly groaning in pain. The men had fought, and Mr. Gold had clearly won the upper hand when she'd stepped through the door. He fixed a calm expression over his face and gentled his voice to address her. "This is a personal conflict, Miss French. Please, excuse us."

It was a futile request, he knew. He couldn't expect a daughter to turn away and let her father go on being beaten, even if her father was Moe French - the con man, the criminal, the wretch who had just signed his own death warrant after crossing Gold in such a way.

If anything, the man's politeness was more alarming than his violence. Belle blinked at him, dumb-founded. "What?"

Moe shifted on the floor, "Belle, get out of here, run!"

"Oh, please, she has nothing to fear from me, this is between you and I." Gold snapped angrily, his voice lancing across to the other man. It was a weapon in itself.

Belle paid her father's warning no mind - she'd walked in on a scene of insanity, but unlike the rest of the town, she had no fear of Mr. Gold. She looked down at her father, still slumped on the floor. "Dad, why is he here? What have you done?"

Mr. Gold was not surprised that Belle knew Moe had brought this wrath down upon himself. The woman knew her father.

He turned to Moe, "Would you like me to tell her?"

"Don't you talk to my daughter, you bastard!"

Mr. Gold shrugged. "It doesn't matter, she'll learn the truth either way." He looked over at Belle. "Your father took something from me, Miss French, and I've come to collect a pound of flesh though I think he can spare a bit more than that."

Gold started toward Moe, appearing intent to attack. She rushed to step in between him and her father. "No, Mr. Gold, please don't! I'll pay, I'll pay for whatever-"

"This isn't about money." Gold's eyes were furious even as his voice was ice cold. Standing so close to him, she could _feel_ it, the rage seething just beneath the surface of the man. "Nothing can replace what he's taken from me."

Belle's mind raced, a hundred questions zipping through her mind: what had her father taken from him? What could he want to make up for what her father had stolen? The most pressing question, however, was how could this vicious man before her be the same Mr. Gold who had been such a warm pleasure to her for the past year?

Her father was struggling to move up from his place on the floor, spitting vulgarities at Mr. Gold, and while he was standing still and his voice was level, Mr. Gold was making just as many spiteful promises to the other man.

Belle had to do something to stop this vicious insanity, but what?

What could she do?

_What could she do?!_

Belle took a deep breath, and put her hand on Mr. Gold's shoulder to draw his attention once more. "If this isn't about money, then...then take me."

Mr. Gold drew back, his scowl lifting for a moment of surprise. "What?"

Her father had thankfully ceased his cursing to stare at her, shock written all over his bruised face.

Belle moved again, putting herself directly between Mr. Gold and her father. When she spoke, her voice was barely steady, but she had to keep the man's focus in case he tried to attack again. She couldn't let that happen. She had to be brave now.

"You're right, I don't have much money. Whatever I have, I know it won't be enough. I am all I have to give. You don't have to do this." She stepped closer to him, until her hands came to rest over his on the raised cane. She could feel the tension leave his fingers and thankfully, he lowered the weapon, his attention focused solely on her.

"What are you saying?"

Belle recognized what he was doing, trying to get her to spell out what it was she wanted from him - this was the first step in dealing with Mr. Gold. He had taught her well.

"Take what you were going to put against my father and put it to me. Please, Mr. Gold." She begged. "I can work off the value of what he stole in your shop, or in one of your buildings or restaurants. Whatever you want, just please don't hurt him anymore."

His dark eyes had narrowed on her as she spoke, and Belle could see him thinking, thinking, and then, some choice had been made.

Gold stepped forward, crooking his finger and lightly tipping her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. He'd never think to touch her like this, speak to her this way, had he been in his right mind - but nothing was right this night. It had all gone to hell the moment her father forced his way across Gold's threshold.

"What a hero you are under all that makeup." He took a deep breath, and Belle saw that regret flashed in his face before he told her, "Come with me."

The man stepped away, disgusted with the entire scene, but himself most of all.

Belle glanced to her father, still half-slumped on the floor, before looking back to him. "Where?"

"To my house," Gold huffed. "It's where I conduct my less conventional business arrangements, and it's where you can see the damage you'll have to pay for."

Belle closed her eyes for a moment, thankful that he was allowing this, for her to take her father's place and in doing so, sparing the man a severe beating at the very least. When she'd come in the door...Gold had had a fire in his eyes, he'd looked ready to kill.

This was not Mr. Gold as she'd known him.

This was Mr. Gold, the man she'd been warned against since they'd first met.

Clearly, she'd never known him at all.

"Thank you. Will you please wait, just for one minute? I need my bag."

He nodded, dismissing her.

Gold watched Belle move out of the room, down the hallway and into a side door before turning back to her father, he who had remained silent during their entire exchange.

"And you? You're just going to let me take your daughter away without a word, aren't you?" His face twisted into a renewed sneer of disgust. "And they say I'm the monster - if anyone else could see you now they'd chase you right out of town."

Moe shifted from his spot on the floor, but Gold's warning glare kept him sitting rather than trying to stand. "What are you going to do with her?"

Gold only smiled.

* * *

><p>Belle stepped into her old room and took a moment to stand beside her bed, willing her hands to stop shaking. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down.<p>

_Who is that man? _

_He isn't Mr. Gold. He can't be - Mr. Gold is gentle and sweet and funny, he's not...__he's...he's exactly what he warned me he was. A monster._

Belle fought against the tears welling in her eyes and the tightening of her throat. She couldn't break down now, there would be time to cry later, after she had Mr. Gold alone and could finally understand the man she was dealing with.

If understanding between them could ever be possible after tonight.

The woman shook her head and reached into the closet for the duffel she'd brought from her apartment. She started to look for anything else she might need, pausing when she heard the men speaking again, her father asking Gold what he had in store for her, and Mr. Gold's biting answer.

"Damn it, answer me, what are you going to do, Gold?"

"I havent decided. Maybe I'll just have her clean the shop or maybe I'll chain her to the wall in my basement the first chance I get." He snarked, and despite the insanity of the situation, Belle almost laughed through her tears.

In the living room, Gold was still laying into her father, his voice dropping to a lower pitch, perfectly conveying his veiled fury, and Belle wasn't sure who she was more afraid for - her father or herself.

"You just sold her to me to save yourself a beating...but since you're so curious, I'll have you know that I plan to get my money's worth. Every penny. Miss French!"

Belle flinched, nearly dropping her bag as he called for her.

She reentered the living room, the small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "I'm ready."

He nodded. "Good."

The man said nothing else, he simply turned and strode out of the house, fully expecting her to follow.

Moe reached for her as she walked past him toward the front door. "Belle, Belle, don't go with him-"

Belle ignored her father, following Mr. Gold outside and then across the street to his car.

The drive to Mr. Gold's house was tense and silent. Belle glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but Gold was focused solely on the road ahead.

She hugged her bag closer to her chest.

* * *

><p>Belle had not seen the front rooms of Mr. Gold's house the night before. They had come in through the back and she'd left through the same way that morning; all she'd seen had been the guest room she'd slept in, the bare hallway and his kitchen. There had been no time for her to linger and it hadn't occurred to her to have a look around the rest of the house while he'd still been asleep. She had been in a rush to get on back to her father's to change, and from there, getting in to work on time.<p>

And besides, Mr. Gold had offered her a tour that she was sure he would give on her next visit. As she'd walked across Storybrooke that morning, Belle had let her mind wander, picturing a day spent with him in the notorious mansion.

Rather than candlelight and roses, Belle had imagined they'd share a meal in the evening, something they would prepare together. They would be completely at ease as they took turns chopping vegetables and stirred sauces, teasing, arguing, no fear of being found out and no need to hide.

It would just be them, together. A relaxed meal, the product of their joint efforts. A sweet dessert to follow. Then, Mr. Gold would lead her through the house on his promised tour. And he would kiss her, finally, really kiss her.

But _this?_

Neither of them could have expected this disaster after the pleasantness of the night before.

Gold lead her up to the front door, which Belle noted had a broken frame in its stained glass center. That must've been how her father got in, breaking the beautiful glass rather than forcing the lock.

He shoved the door open, letting it bang back hard on the wall, and then he stood in the foyer, debating which destroyed room should house their little chat.

Well.

The front room directly to his left still had a lighting fixture. Moe had ripped the fixture that lit the opposite room right out of the ceiling. The wires hanging down were still sparking.

Belle came in just behind him and stood in the front doorway, taking in the ruin of the house, already ashamed, already horrified for him. "My father did all this?"

Gold shook his head, "This is nothing, though I would appreciate a clean-up."

He crossed the room, crunching over broken glass as he walked. His cane got caught on a twisted piece of broken wood that had clearly been part of a picture frame, but he was able to right his balance, and flung the wood against the far wall with a sharp _crack_ as it snapped apart. Belle winced at the noise and remained where she stood, just inside the doorway with the duffel clutched to her chest.

Why Gold would think the ruin of his beautiful home as "nothing", Belle had no idea. Her shame was tenfold. She had considered Mr. Gold her close friend, but it seemed impossible that he could return that sentiment, or anything else she felt for him, now. She was tainted by her connection to Moe French, and would be forever going forward.

But Mr. Gold had brought her here to repair the damage, and had just asked her, in his polite way, to get started on the mess. A quick sweep of her eyes told her she would need a broom and dustpan, a mop, Windex and rags, several large trash bags...but first she had to get out of Ruby's heels and into her sneakers.

Belle motioned to her duffel bag. "Yes, of course, just let me change and I'll get started. I promise, it'll be spotless when I'm finished." She was already moving toward the bathroom she'd spotted down the hall.

"No."

Belle stopped. "No?"

"No. Have a drink with me." Gold crouched down and pulled the lone survivor from the shards where his liquor cabinet, several bottles and a set of Waterford glasses had once stood.

It was brandy. He would have preferred anything stronger, but brandy was all he had left.

Seeming to notice the tear in his navy suit jacket for the first time, Gold removed it and let it fall on the floor to join the rest of the ruin. The greatest state of undress that Belle had ever see him in had been the previous winter, when he'd removed his tie for her. He wore thin bands of gold on his upper arms. Decorative little secrets hiding just under the sleeves of his jacket.

Gold turned around to face her, and gestured to the sofa, seeing as the other furniture in the room, the wingback chairs and ottoman were sliced, the stuffing ripped out and thrown all about the room. Black spray paint spelled out vulgarities all over the walls and above the mantel, and there were impact dents in the walls and wood floor that she would wager came from her father hurling whatever he could get his hands on.

All of Mr. Gold's beautiful things, ruined.

The thought made her sick.

"All right."

The sofa was in a similar state as the other furniture, with its cushions slashed and a broad stripe of black paint running along the back. Still, Belle managed to sit as he'd asked, and took the glass he offered - ever the gentleman, Gold had given her the glass with the least damage, lest she slice her lip on the rim.

The tension that had been crackling around him was loosening its hold, Belle could feel it. Still, nothing could reverse the situation they found themselves in on this awful night.

"I'm sorry that I ruined your girls' night." Gold told her quietly after he'd sat beside her with his own drink in hand, tilting his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. "I know you were looking forward to it."

"You didn't ruin anything." She soothed. "We had already wrapped up for the night anyway."

"Did you have fun?"

Belle paused, thinking of the dart games, the dancing, the music still ringing in her ears. It all seemed so far away, now.

"Yes."

"Good. That's good. Having fun, it's what you should be doing, not..._this_."

The deep disgust in Gold's voice was startling. Clearly, he didn't want her here, not with his home in such a state, not after having revealed such a dark side of himself to her.

Belle wasn't sure what to expect from the man. Things were beyond changed now, Belle knew. She'd seen what he was capable of, and he now saw her in connection with her father's misdeed.

Whatever friendship they had formed, Belle bid it a sad, silent farewell.

Together they sat under the spray-painted canopy of **FAGGOT** across the far wall with the stinging odor of paint and alcohol lingering in the room.

Glancing over, Belle watched as Gold had leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes staring down angrily at the brandy in his hands.

The woman said nothing, she simply sat beside him and wondered why her father hadn't just shattered the last liquor bottle or stolen it for himself. Gold gulped down his whole glass, then dropped it carelessly, letting it shatter into the silence and rubbed a hand over his face.

Feeling oddly removed, Belle handed her untouched glass to him, and, with a nod of thanks, Gold gulped it down as well before tossing the glass and letting it shatter beside its sibling on the floor. Finally he stood, moved to the cracked mantel and broke the silence.

"Miss French, I've a proposition for you. I want you to stay with me, not just for a night. This would be...favorable to my coming after your father for reparations on all he's done."

The intention behind his offer was clear - she would stay with him and her father would be spared, or she could leave, and her father would be in for another round of violence. While he might survive if Gold came after him again, he certainly would not if it was Mr. Dove who found him.

The choice was hers, but-

Belle shifted her weight on the sofa, a thick knot of dread tightening in her stomach.

He couldn't be demanding this from her...her friend, he couldn't...it wasn't meant to be this way...no, no. _No, damn it, not like this!_

Belle shot to her feet, her eyes stinging with tears of anger, regret for all that had been lost tonight. "No. I'm not going to sleep with you for-"

"No!" Gold turned to face her, his grip so tight on the handle of his cane that his knuckles had gone white. "I don't want that from you. I know what's said about me but it will never be said that I force women into whoring themselves."

The man looked her over, the revealing outfit and the heavy makeup...for one flash moment, he loathed the sight of her. Where had his charming friend disappeared to? He couldn't find her under the painted face before him. He wanted _his_ Miss French, _his_ Belle back. This was too much. He could hardly look at her.

Gold was upset, unbalanced. Rage and regret were warring inside of him, pulling at his heart. He felt the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go, and he couldn't run if he tried.

The man wanted to turn back time, to go back to the evening before. It had been so innocent, a comfort to have her there with him. He wanted that again, desperately, but how could he expect that now he'd voiced a deal designed to extort her presence?

It was all gone, now. She'd seen too much. She'd seen him for what he was and it was over.

Gold gave a broken sigh, struggling to keep his voice steady, "I'm sorry, Miss French, please, I would never demand that you...I'm not myself. No. I am too much myself tonight, and that's the problem."

Gold rubbed his face, ashamed, as miserable as he'd been in an age. There was no recovery for them after this; once a woman feared a man, there was no coming back.

He'd driven a stake right through the heart of everything they'd shared. He did this.

Belle watched as he rubbed at his face again, a restlessness cast over him. If this were any other night, she would go to the man, offer a comfort if she thought he would accept it. But things were too tense, too raw. Gold might lash out if she approached. Still, she had to know.

"Why are you doing this?"

The why of it all reawakened his anger. "Because your father crossed me. He approached me when he couldn't manage his own affairs, reneged on our deal, invaded my home and took away one of the only things I have left of-" Gold stopped himself, his voice smooth and in control once again. "After what he did, I plan to repay him in kind. Starting with you."

Mr. Gold turned his famous glare on her, but Belle was not afraid of him. She never had been, not even after seeing this side of the man. "If you wanted to take away something he cared about, you should have taken his liquor, or the drugs. I'm not defending what he did to you. And you're right, if he'd been able to manage then he never would have had to come to you. What I meant was, why not just go to the police?"

Gold shook his head, dismissing the idea. "After what I did, we'd both be arrested. Jail's not good enough. He has to suffer."

"So you'll hurt me to hurt him?"

Gold hissed in a sharp breath at that, and clenched his jaw. "Miss French, I know that it is difficult now to believe that I won't hurt you, given what you've seen of me tonight, but you have my word that you are safe here. You are safe from any...intentions you might think I have in asking that you stay with me."

Gold suppressed a groan of disgust that he would even need to reassure her of such a thing.

_God, what she must be thinking..._

Belle didn't say anything, she just looked at him as Mr. Gold continued.

"Even if I wanted to, I don't need to hurt you to get to your father. He doesnt care about you the way a father should. I am sorry to say that, but his actions tonight speak for themselves. He has no idea that we know each other, does he?" Gold asked her. Belle only shook her head, to which he nodded. "I thought as much. To him, you and I are still strangers, and he let me take you away, to my house, in the middle of the night. What kind of man does that?"

_The better question is, what kind of man would demand I stay with him?! _Belle snapped at him in her mind, sure her scowl was conveying her thought perfectly. She crossed her arms and adjusted her stance to appear defiant.

"What I need...I need to show I can't be crossed. I need to have you with me to keep up appearances. Do you understand?"

Belle remembered his words of wisdom when it came to deals - that specifics were paramount when it came to any agreement. "Please be more clear, Mr. Gold." She asked coldly.

He glanced back at her and gave the faintest of smiles. She had listened to his advice and was using it now.

_Clever girl._

"Fine. As I said, I won't touch you. But your father, and more importantly, the other people in this town who owe me, don't know that. As far as they know, you and I are strangers to each other. So, in taking you to clear your father's debt, in keeping you here, I'll be sending a message."

Belle felt tears slip down her cheeks, purely sad for her friend. This man felt the only way toward any power or respect was to twist his image into something dark and ugly. The rumors had all been true, then. He thrived on it, the monster he'd made of himself.

"Yes. The message is that you've taken me and that you aren't above doing the same to anyone else who crosses you. I'll serve as a warning. I understand that. But Mr. Gold, you can't want this."

"What I want is of no concern to you." He warned her.

Belle shook her head, trying to appeal to the good in him. She knew it was there, she'd seen it, she'd felt it with every hour spent in his company. It couldn't have all been lies between them. "Think this through. What if you met someone, how would you explain this to her?"

At that, Gold gave a bitter little laugh. "If I met someone. Very funny."

The man wanted to stop this, beg her forgiveness but he was too far gone now, there was no going back. Let him be the beast of Storybrooke, let her see him as a monster.

"I need to make things very clear, lest anyone else get the bright idea to walk over me after a deal turns sour on their end. I'll take what they hold dear, no matter how innocent, and corrupt it beyond recognition. And I'll enjoy doing it."

Belle felt the ground fall out from under her feet at this sinister declaration.

"That's awful." She said quietly.

Gold did not disagree with her. "That's business."

There.

After a year of tea and friendly talks, Miss French had finally been introduced to the real Mr. Gold.

"The guest room is yours if you choose to accept my deal, and as I recall you already have a set of pajamas." His little joke fell flat, but he hadn't expected a laugh from her.

Not now, not tonight.

"I want your decision in the morning."

Belle looked down at her hands, fisting them as she wondered where her soft-spoken friend had gone, and thinking how stupid she had been to ignore everyone's warnings about him.

_You stupid, lonely girl..._

Belle stepped forward and approached the man. Gold stilled, expecting her to slap him, but he held his ground and did not break his eyes from hers. If she wanted to get a hit in, he'd let her have it. It was exactly what he deserved.

"You won't have to wait that long. You knew I'd agree to anything before we even came here, didn't you?"

Gold moved forward and swept a tear off her cheek with the back of his index finger.

His sweet friend. Why was he doing this? It was a curse, it had to be, for him to ruin everything good in his life, for everything to fall apart in his hands.

In that moment, all he wanted was to beg forgiveness and confide his every secret, to explain, to make her understand...but he was too raw, too drained to say anything else.

"Good night, Miss French."


End file.
